


Twelve Days of Christmas

by indigo (indigo_angels)



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-23 05:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18147566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_angels/pseuds/indigo
Summary: A year after the end of their relationship, Hannibal and Face look back at happier Christmases past and wonder if they were always destined to fail.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spot_On60](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spot_On60/gifts).



> Written as a gift for Spot_On as part of the 2016 Yahoo Hannibal and Face Secret Santa. I always intended posting it here, but hadn't really got around to it - but Spot_On has asked so here it is!

When Face opened his eyes, he knew. It was like there was some kind of Swiss mechanisation inside him, some kind of pedantic, unfailing system that told him he had now lived for three hundred and fifty-nine days exactly without Hannibal at his side and in his life.

 

He rolled to his side and stared, unseeing, out of the open drapes and wondered if it would always hurt like this, if his chest would always feel as if there was a knife nestled in there somewhere, if the mere thought of Hannibal and what he had done would make his stomach tighten and his throat retch, if he would always wonder if he had the strength, or the inclination, to get out of bed and live another day.

 

He did though, and he acknowledged he always would and he swung his legs out of the bed before he could change his mind. His reason for living, for going through this pain day after day after day was all Murdock’s doing and another thing he wondered was if the pilot knew that, if he had the slightest idea that without his friendship, his loyalty, his emotional instability as well, Face would have packed off months ago; whether that would have been to the jungles of Peru or somewhere a little less returnable would never be clear in Face’s head… But no, he had Murdock, he had their blossoming business venture and… well, he’d have to be satisfied with just that for now.

 

He wandered downstairs and let himself out onto the deck, feeling the light December sunshine as it washed over his skin. He’d been about to make coffee but had just realised he didn’t have any. Seeing Hannibal for the first time in months as he’d headed to the grocery store the previous evening had thrown him. He’d stopped, stock still as he’d watched that unmistakable figure uncurl itself from a vintage little sports car and he’d just turned on the spot and walked away, unwilling to revisit any of that anger and agony from last year. It hadn’t done him much good though, the agony had followed him home, as it had stalked him every single day since that life-changing evening almost twelve months ago. He’d spent a restless night flitting between waking thoughts and vivid dreams – and now he faced a morning with no coffee. Shaking his head, he turned and headed for the shower instead, they had coffee at work, he’d get some there and anyway – the work that awaited him at their unit would help him take his mind off yesterday’s chance encounter.

 

Work might have possessed lots of helpful, distracting qualities, but showering didn’t and in his eagerness not to go over and over the most minute details of his brief glimpse of Hannibal, Face, instead, found his mind wandering to a happier, easier memory, that of a Christmas spent long ago.

 

_________________

 

Face had never intended going to sleep. It was his custom to creep out as soon as his partner for the evening had slipped into slumber and it was a strategy that had been both safe and solid. His motto was simple – never get tangled – and over the years it had served him well. Close relationships were trouble and Face knew he did much, much better on his own.

 

So, he’d dropped the ball on this one, let down his guard and fallen asleep and, as he carefully and steadfastly removed himself from Hannibal’s arms, he found himself wondering why this time was so different.

 

Maybe he was just exhausted. They’d had a rough round of missions and then it had been back to the States and leave for some, but training for those left behind. It had been tough training as well, with some heavy drinking afterwards and maybe that was where Face had fallen. He still wasn’t sure how it had happened – one minute he and Hannibal had been in that bar, the last two remaining in the early hours of the morning, the next they’d been in the back of a cab necking like teenagers and then in Hannibal's off-base house, Face being led upstairs by the most intense pair of blue eyes he’d ever seen on a partner.

 

It could even have been that, he supposed as he slipped, soundlessly, out of the bedroom and into the hallway. He’d always been one for an alpha male and Hannibal Smith was as alpha as they came… but even that knowledge hadn’t prepared Face for what had awaited him once they’d got into the huge bedroom at the back of the house. Hannibal had been in charge, yes, there had never been any doubt for either of them over who had been going to wear the condom that night, but he was in charge in a completely unique way. He was alpha, he was calling the shots and directing the play, but it was the way that he did it: telling Face to strip but in a voice edged in awe, pushing him onto the bed and sliding down his briefs, freeing Face’s eager cock, but with a look on his face that seemed to say that he couldn’t quite believe what he was doing, using those big hands to arrange Face on the bed, spreading his arms and legs into an exposed pose that Face would normally hate, but with the whispered little comments of, “Oh God, you are beautiful,” and, “Look at you, I never dreamt I would get to see this.” It was not only okay; it was incredibly erotic.

 

The way they’d eventually had sex as well, both on their knees on the bed, Hannibal pushed up close to Face’s back, holding him tightly around the belly as that huge cock moved inside of him, his other hand roaming over Face’s eager flesh, playing with his nipples, cupping his balls, stroking his dick until Face was lost at the sensation of it all. It had gone on for what felt like hours, a slow stroking over Face’s prostate with every slide in and out, hot, whispered words in his ear and an orgasm that came from nowhere after a build-up that took over every sense. It was only after that moment, when Face had locked up and come, shooting thick, ropes of semen across the bed as he was held tightly against Hannibal's chest, only then did Hannibal allow himself to follow and Face was held even more tightly as the thrusts inside him became less measured and careful and more frantic and primeval. It was almost too much – almost but not quite as the sounds and the feeling of Hannibal Smith coming inside _him_ made it incredible all over again. It was the first time in his life he’d wished there had not been a layer of latex separating them.

 

And even afterwards had been a shock, he’d half expected Hannibal to just throw him out into a cab. Nicely of course, with that easy grin and a casual, “See you after the holidays, kid,” but that’s not what he’d got. Face’s loose limbs were rearranged again, up against Hannibal’s chest once more but this time laid in the bed, their naked bodies pressed together, not a millimetre between them, Hannibal's arm tight around his chest, his lips at an ear, pressing kisses into his hair and then whispering, “That was good, kid, really good,” before he went lax and heavy and slid into sleep. Face had been stunned at first, but then he’d been tired and more than a little drunk and the bed had been warm, the company comforting, maybe it was no surprise he’d fallen asleep at all.

 

But now it was back to the real world. It was still the middle of the night, still dark enough that he could slip out unnoticed. He’d got out from the boss’ bedroom okay, now he only had to get out of the front door and walk to the end of the road before he called a cab. No tangles. Perfect.

 

The tree lights were on in the den and Face couldn’t resist a look in at the heavily scented fir that stood there, resplendent in its silver beauty. Christmas Eve and Face was headed for another solitary holiday spent in his poky little studio. A pang landed right in his gut at that thought but he ruthlessly pushed it away. No tangles, he was his own man, he’d spent many a holiday on his own in the past, what was one more? On his own he was safe, secure, wrapped up tightly against the hurt in the world. It was the best way to be.

 

He turned at that, headed for the door and a parcel caught his eye as it sat, innocuously, on the edge of the counter. It was wrapped in brightly coloured paper, foiled white with red and silver edged robins printed all over it. There was a tag as well, a matching robin, die cut and expensive, as well as a looping, extravagant bow. It wasn’t any of that that had caught Face’s eye though, it was the writing inside the tag, the bold script that he had seen on so many mission notes and orders over the year he’d been on Hannibal’s team, the single word that had leapt out at him, “Face.”

 

With shaking legs, he took a step forward, with shaking fingers he pushed the tag open further, his breath short in his chest as he read the rest, “Face, Merry Christmas! I hope this is the first of many for us, Hannibal xx,” and the implications of that simple message slammed home in his chest with the power of a pile driver. This wasn’t a drunken hook-up, this had been planned, _Hannibal_ had planned it, Hannibal had _wanted_ it. Hannibal wanted him, and not just to fuck either, there were god-damn _kisses_ on his gift tag, kisses from his commanding officer – somehow that was nowhere near as weird as it should have been.

 

For a long while, Face stood and stared and fought a battle with himself. _Tangled!_ a voice inside him hissed, _Hannibal_ another answered. Indecision roiled inside him and then, just like that, settled and cleared. Face took a deep breath, smiled to himself and turned back down the hallway to the dark bedroom beyond. This Christmas he wasn’t going to be on his own. Tangled? Maybe. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.        

_________________

 

“Fucking typical…”

 

Face looked around him, glancing in his mirrors and through every window before he conceded that yes, for the time being at least, he was stuck. He let out a long sigh and switched off his engine, sitting back in his seat and watching impassively as the driver of the jack-knifed rig in front of him climbed out of his cab and stared as if mind-power alone could get him back on the road.

 

“Well, at least he didn’t take me out with him,” Face mused darkly, “I suppose I should be grateful for that.”

 

All around him, other drivers were doing the same thing, turning off their engines and going to their phones instead, firing messages to work colleagues and loved ones, letting them know about their enforced change of plans. With a sick twist to his gut, Face realised that he had no need of such messages. Even though he was now, they all were, free and untainted members of society, Murdock was the only person that Face had any kind of non-business relationship with at all, and he was off in Sacramento, hopefully lining up some new suppliers. The pang of loneliness was very real and painful but Face ruthlessly pushed it down; every relationship he’d ever had in his life – apart from Murdock – had brought him pain, searing and burning pain, and he was far, far better off living his life alone. Untangled. He’d treat himself after work that night, he decided, go to a bar, find himself a woman who was as keen as he was to have a little company. Maybe they’d end up at a hotel, maybe her place but whatever the outcome, he decided that he’d let himself get lost in sex for a few hours, it would make everything seem much brighter. For a while.

 

The thoughts of soft curves and empty promises however, couldn’t occupy his mind for long, and, without him even realising it, he found himself drifting off into years gone by.

 

_______________________

 

“Jesus Christ, boss, that was a close one!”

 

The mortar had rocked the tiny corner of the world that Face and Hannibal were sheltering in, covering them both in a fine layer of brick dust and – fortunately – nothing worse. Face had twisted behind him to check that Hannibal was okay at the exact same second he caught the boss doing it for him and the knowledge sent a rush of warmth straight through him, despite the dire circumstances in which they found themselves.

 

Hannibal didn’t answer though, just lifted his weapon and took a few carefully placed shots into the darkness, hopefully picking off a few more of their attackers. Face followed his lead and turned back to the scene facing them, frowning as he saw even more men creeping forward and joining the masses sheltering behind a hulking great ex-Russian army truck. “They’re going to over-run us,” he mused, more to himself than to Hannibal who had, undoubtedly, already worked that fact out for himself.

 

Face and Hannibal had been hunkered down for a few hours now, taking out anyone who tried to get through the narrow pass in the mountains, giving their team time to withdraw but effectively trapping themselves in the process. Face knew that the commander of the insurgents wanted them dead and he was quite willing to sacrifice a few of his men to achieve that aim. Once the charge came, the two Rangers would be able to pick off a fair few, but eventually they would be outnumbered and gunned down where they stood.

 

If they were lucky.

 

Face lifted his own weapon and peered through the night-scope, carefully picking off another man as he broke cover to head to the staging point behind the truck. “How many do you reckon?” he asked dispassionately and at his shoulder he felt Hannibal shrug.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe eighteen?”

 

Face’s heart sank. “You think there’s many more to come?”

 

“No, not now, look.” Face looked up, just in time to see the ragged-looking leader scuttling through the dirt to throw himself behind the truck with his men. This was it then, show-time. Somehow, knowing that he was going to die a violent death with Hannibal at his side wasn’t half as terrifying as doing it on his own. He settled himself as comfortably as he could, checked his ammo and turned to Hannibal, only to find him smiling down at his watch. “Check the time, kid.”

 

Face did, peeling back a sweat-soaked layer of clothing to stare at the face of his watch underneath and his own lips quirked into a little smile; it was five past midnight, Christmas Day.

 

“Happy Christmas, Face. I got you something.”

 

Part of Face was astounded that Hannibal would choose this moment, when they were minutes from certain death in the battlefield to give him a festive gift, but the other part, the part that knew and loved Hannibal more than anything else in the world, wasn’t at all surprised. He leaned forward, accepted the gritty and grimy kiss he was being offered and then looked down to see the single attack grenade nestled in Hannibal's big palm.

 

“What do you think? You think you can make it from here?”

 

Face looked out of the crack they’d been firing through and back at the ancient truck, understanding Hannibal’s plan instantly, understanding why the boss had waited until all their attackers were huddled behind the huge, great target and his lips curved into a massive grin. It was a bit of a distance away, he’d need to stand up to make it but yeah, he could hit that, no problem.

 

He nodded and shifted to crouch on his toes, “Of course. Right down their chimney. Cover me?”

 

“Always.”

 

And then they were ready. Face took a breath, adjusted his grip on the grenade and nodded at Hannibal.

 

They rose as one, Hannibal spraying wild fire everywhere to give Face the fraction of a second he needed to make his throw.

 

They didn’t stay around to see it land. The moment that Face’s gift had left his fingers, they turned and ran for it, both counting in their heads, both throwing themselves to the ground a moment before the shockwave from the explosion reached them. Face lay on his belly, hands over his head as debris rained all around them and then, finally, everything fell silent. There was a moment of stillness then Face cautiously raised his head and looked over at Hannibal to find him doing the exact same thing. They smiled at each other once more.

 

“Excellent throw, Lieutenant.”

 

“Excellent plan, Colonel.”

 

Hannibal’s grin widened, “Ah, that was only part one of my plan.”

 

Face let out a little huff of laughter, “And part two?”

 

“Later. Back at the base. I’m going to give you your _real_ Christmas present.”

 

Face laughed again and knew, right then, that this was going to be his best Christmas Day to date.

     

 

_______________________

 

Face allowed himself a little smile as he clicked his phone off and stretched back in his seat. That was good, that was a decent order they’d got themselves there, would certainly help out in the dead time straight after Christmas. For the first time in a long while he felt that old buzz inside him, that satisfaction of a job well done, the type of fuzzy feeling of warmth that always encouraged a shot or three of Blue… and just like that, the whole feeling evaporated.

 

He slumped forward in his seat again, elbows on the table, fingers in his hair. Who the fuck was he trying to kid? A job well done was a band of insurgents neutralised as they stalked unsuspecting locals through the desert. It was the end of some wanna-be dictator and his nefarious plans for taking over his corner of the world. It was the ousting of some hill-billy dick-head who felt that the whole community should pay him for his ‘protection’. It wasn’t securing a job to print off three hundred invitations to a fiftieth birthday party… 

 

What had his life come to?

 

He scrubbed at his face, and tried to get himself together. He was doing okay. He had a successful business. He had Murdock as a fabulous best friend who would do anything for him. He’d survived Hannibal tiring of him and throwing him aside as well, something he’d always worried would happen but had believed in their love enough to never really expect. If he could so that, then he could do anything.

 

He glanced at the clock, twenty past one, no wonder he was hungry. With a resolute sigh, Face pushed his seat back and headed for the corner deli and a walk in the park, his mind wandering back to Christmases past, Christmases when he was sure he made a difference.

 

__________________________

 

The four of them were silent as they unpacked their gear from the jeep and limped or hobbled back towards their allotted tent.

 

Three weeks they’d been away, out following the trail of the men known locally as _Alrrajul Aldhy Yajeal al'Aleab Alnnaria_ – the Firework Maker. A man who’d taken the lives of so many others, soldiers and civilians alike, with his homemade explosive devices. They’d found him, tracked him back to his lair and ambushed him, having just enough time to make a definitive identification of him before he triggered a booby trap suicide device.

 

The team had been lucky to escape its range and even though they’d not only neutralised an active threat to peace in the region and also destroyed a complex bomb-making site in the process, there was little joy between the four of them, mainly because the Firework Maker seemed to have been a young, talented and impressionable young man, one who could not have been a day over seventeen.

 

All four of them took it hard. All four of them could relate to the disillusioned teen they’d watched die and wonder at their own lives and how close they had come to being that man. Face particularly knew what a difference Hannibal had made for him, how he’d have been lucky to see his own eighteenth birthday without the man being his mentor first and his lover second.

 

They trailed back in silence, prepared for nothing else other than a few stiff drinks and a night of intoxicated oblivion – what they got though was something completely different.

 

Face had been so far into his thoughts, so wrapped up in his internal monologue of possibilities that he actually jumped as they rounded the final corner, leapt out of his skin and collided with BA behind him as the cheer went up and the fairy lights flicked on all around them.

 

It was only when Face saw the sad little tinsel tree set up in the corner of the space outside their tent that he realised that it was even Christmas day and he stood there, literally stunned as people swarmed around him, patting him on the back, ruffling his filthy hair, shoving drinks at him and telling him, over and over and over, what a good job he’d done, what a win it was for the coalition, what a difference it would make for everything now that they could travel around the country without fear of an IED blasting up beneath them at any point.

 

Face didn’t feel it, knew it wouldn’t last, knew there would be someone else right behind the Firework Man, taking over from where he’d left off. He was about to tell them as well, could feel the anger welling up inside him when a slight figure pushed her way through the throng and gripped his hand tightly. This was Altaf, an elder from one of the local villages, a lady who had lost her husband and her son in an explosion of one of the Firework Man’s devices. There were tears in her eyes as she looked up at Face, her expression earnest, her hands trembling with emotion.

 

“Thank you,” despite her heavy accent and the joviality around them, Face could clearly hear her words.

 

“It won’t bring them back,” Face was still lost in the futility of it all but Altaf just smiled at him.

 

“No, but it will stop it happening to someone else. No other mother or wife will have to lose someone because of _him_.”

 

Face shook his head, “He was hardly more than a boy himself…”

 

Altaf’s expression grew grim. “He took a life, that makes him a man. He knew what he was risking and you’ve stopped him. There will be people alive tomorrow and the next day thanks to you,” she reached out and touched his forehead, “You have done your parents proud.”

 

She was swallowed up by the crowd them and Face let himself drink and smile and laugh and socialise for long enough and then he snuck away, up to the top landing of the radio tower, staring out across the camp and the desert beyond, not at all surprised when he felt the vibrations of another climber below him.

 

“You alright, kid?”

 

Hannibal wasn’t as happy with heights as Face and Murdock were, but he understood enough about Face to realise that sometimes the extra perspective was a necessity and Face loved him even more for the fact.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“All a bit much for you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Hannibal edged closer, pushing his thigh right up against Face’s, a warm, solid point of contact that did a reasonable job of keeping Face from shivering.

 

“I saw you talking to Atlaf.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Sometimes you have to take the little victories you know, kid. You can’t win the war every day. Sometimes the little things are all we have.”

 

Face marvelled at how Hannibal just _knew_ , always just knew what Face was thinking and feeling. He let out a long sigh. “I still don’t see how the death of a boy changes anything. The Firework Man is a name, a label. Before the end of the week someone else is going to be taking it up, making the same devices, ruining new lives all over again and then ending up dead himself. How can that be a win?”

 

Hannibal’s hand shifted in the dark and fell on Face’s leg, squeezing gently in a gesture so full of love and _ease_ that Face felt his heart quicken a little.

 

“Maybe the next one won’t be quite so good. Maybe his devices will be easier to spot. No one can change everything Face. We all do our bit and we’ll get there in the end. You saw how much gear he had in his workshop – how many lives do you think that could have ended?”

 

Face thought about that. Ran his eyes over the image of the workshop that his photographic memory had stored and did a few calculations, all in a few seconds. He let out a long breath. “Fuck, boss, he had enough stuff there to wipe out half the villages in the region.”

 

“Exactly. How many Altaf’s did we save, Face? Marginal gains. Take your victories where you can find them.”

 

“I guess.”

 

Hannibal squeezed his leg again. “Families are together tonight because of you. No Iraqi orphans today. No Army kid finding out his dad’s been killed on Christmas day. What happens next week and the week after is another thing. That doesn’t make you feel good?” 

 

There was a low squirming in Face's gut at Hannibal's words. How many times had he lay in bed as a child and wished, with everything he had, that _something_ had intervened for him. That fate or luck or God or _someone_ had let him stay with his parents. Would his life have been different? Undoubtedly. Better? Well, back then it just had to have been. The thought that he had been that _someone_ for someone else, that he had kept parents and children together – despite the futility of their war – the victory in that battle couldn’t help but warm him.

 

“I guess.”

 

Hannibal let out a low chuckle and reached up to pull Face closer, kissing behind his ear in a rare on-base sign of emotion. “I love you, Face. I love everything about you. You’re a good man.”

 

The words were even more unexpected than the kiss and Face turned around, his eyes blurred with sudden tears to see if Hannibal was teasing him. His eyes were solemn and serious though and Face had to swallow around the lump in his throat, knowing then, that he’d never love anyone more.

 

______________________

 

Sandwich forgotten, Face stared out across the empty park. It still hurt. No matter how many days went by, how many times he went over everything and tried to make sense, tried to rationalise it all, it still didn’t add up and it still hurt like hell.

 

Hannibal had seemed to be Face’s everything, and he’d seemed just as happy with that fact as Face himself was. How could Face have misread all those signs? How could he have been so wrong? And how could Hannibal just be so callous…

 

He rose to his feet swiftly, and smoothly launched the remains of his sub into the nearest trash can. He wouldn’t go down that route now, he absolutely couldn’t. It was bad enough as it was at present, with Christmas being everywhere and all Face wanted to do was hide from it all. He’d even considered going away for the whole of the holiday period to escape the jolly festive fun that made him feel like he wanted to vomit, but Murdock’s stricken expression and the knowledge from his own years away that Christmas managed to get _everywhere_ made him give up on that fact and decide that he had to just stick it out. It was like a band-aid that needing ripping off, after that, things would get better. They just had to.

 

He started his slow walk back to the big shining chrome and glass monolith and the rented office space and, despite himself, felt his mind wandering again, back to when he’d actually loved Christmas time.

 

_____________________

 

“How did Hannibal get us leave over the holidays, then?”

 

Face and Murdock were in the kitchen of Hannibal's off-base house, loading up the fridge and the freezer and every single cupboard with calorie laden goodies and Face threw a quick smile over his shoulder as he tried to get their over-sized ham to fit into the fridge. “I have no idea. Think he pulled in every favour he had going. Wanted it to be good for you guys I reckon, wanted to make it something special for us all.”

 

Face could still picture it, the look of concentration that passed over Hannibal’s face as Face related that BA’s momma was going away for the holiday to visit an old friend in Jamaica and that Murdock's grandparents were off to Alaska to stay with some distant relatives. Murdock nodded sagely, “Yeah. I guess he would do that. The big guy was pretty upset at the thought of missing his momma.”

 

Sitting back on his haunches, Face considered his two best friends. Yeah – BA had been upset but that had been more to do with his concern about Murdock being alone for the holidays than anything to do with his own change in plans. Just like Murdock was more concerned about that fact regarding BA. He shook his head, the two of them made him laugh, desperate to show the world one thing when the absolute opposite was, in fact, true. Either way, they had a whole eight days of leave to look forward to, all staying together at Hannibal's house, and Face had been given carte blanche to make sure that they had everything they needed for a wonderful festive time – and he fully intended to make the most of that.

 

“You still making cookies then?” he pulled himself up on the counter, wincing as his aching muscles objected a little. It had been yet another tough mission, culminating in Face’s cover being blown and him having to run twenty-three miles across the desert in the dead of night to save himself from being discovered and beheaded. He’d never felt in imminent danger of death, but it had been a little hairy at times and, if his reaction to finding Face alive and well was anything to go by, Hannibal had obviously spent the hours he was out of touch in complete terror for his boy’s safety. He pulled apart a little orange net of satsumas with long fingers as his mind mulled over the way the boss had grabbed at him as he’d stumbled back to base the next morning. How he’d just about frog-marched him to medical and then back to their tent, laying him out on the cot and stripping him naked, making him come three times before he finally passed out in exhaustion. He’d slept for ten hours after that, waking in the dead of night to find himself still in Hannibal's arms, his man holding him and looking out for him as he slept. It had been a great feeling…

 

“Hey!” Snapping fingers in his face jerked him back to reality and he smiled a little sheepishly as Murdock shock his head at him. “Keep your thoughts clean, Peck, you’re handling my food.”

 

Face had just laughed and gone back to packing away the groceries.

 

~~~

 

“It’s a shame it hasn’t snowed.”

 

It was later, much later in their leave, and Hannibal and Face were in bed, chest to back, wrapped up together in the dark of a Christmas night and Face was looking out of the black square of window.

 

“You hate the snow,” Hannibal kissed his bare shoulder. “You hate being cold.”

 

It was very true. Face had spent the entirety of his pre-army days in California and had never been particularly tolerant of the cold, not that he often had much of a choice when they were out in the field of course. “That’s not the point,” his hand was behind him, dusting gently through the wiry hairs on Hannibal’s thigh, “Just because it’s snowed, doesn’t mean you have to be cold. You never hear of indoor heating? Or Vætrex?” Hannibal's laugh rumbled through him. “It would have been nice to have snowed, then it would be a _proper_ Christmas, like in the movies.”

 

Hannibal filed that thought away and set about making love again on the huge bed currently strewn in brightly coloured wrapping paper.

 

__________________

     

The afternoon passed slowly as Face worked on in silence. He’d switched the radio off days ago as the relentless playing of holiday tunes had begun to drag him down. Murdock didn’t call, no customers called, the email account wasn’t troubled and soon the afternoon turned to night.

 

He sat back in his chair and rubbed at his sore eyes, stretching his back out and staring blankly at the clock on the wall. Nineteen-thirty hours – he sighed; it was probably time to go home. The thought held no promise for him though, no excitement, no warmth. What was the point in going home to an empty apartment? Showering alone and then climbing into an empty bed? His night would be filled with thoughts of Hannibal once more, of the life they’d use to lead, the betrayal that had led them here and love that Face had lost. And it had been love, once, Face had been sure of that, a real love, so powerful and complete that it left Face wanting no one else but Hannibal for the rest of his life. No one else but Hannibal, despite what had happened. The man was truly incredible – how was he supposed to settle with anything else after that?

 

But the love hadn’t lasted. Hannibal had tired of him, bored of him, and thrown him away for the chance to experiment a little more, to sample new delights every night instead of coming back to his emotionally challenged and needy ex-lieutenant. And the annoying thing about it all was that Face had _known_. Ever since that very first Christmas, all those years ago when he’d turned around and climbed back into Hannibal’s bed instead of just walking away for good, Face had known that, one day, his shit would be too much for Hannibal, too much for anyone really. He’d known the end was always coming and still he’d stayed, offering himself up like a lamb for the slaughter.

 

He pushed his chair back angrily and grabbed his jacket as he shut down his PC. What had he been playing at? Why hadn’t he cut and run years ago? Saved himself from this inevitable agony? He knew the answer though; it was the same answer that had presented itself to him over and over as he’d constantly wondered if he should stay and wait for Hannibal to tire of him. He’d been happy – that was the fact of it all. He’d been so damn happy with Hannibal and with everything they did together, they’d had some happy times and Hannibal _had_ loved him, of that he was positive. Once…

 

____________

 

 

“This what you had in mind, kid?”

 

At first, Face couldn’t think what Hannibal was referring to and then, like a fairy light in the distance, a memory awoke in a corner of his brain. It had been many years ago, a warm bed and wonderful Christmas and Face’s comments about the snow. He smiled and ran his eyes over the sparkling white landscape that twinkled with lights in the winter sunset and smiled. “Yeah, boss. You fucking nailed it.”

 

Beside him, Hannibal laughed.

 

They were sitting side by side on the porch of the log cabin the team were currently hiding out in, although side by side probably wasn’t as accurate a description as ‘crushed up together’; Face currently trying to meld himself to Hannibal's warmth. They each had a glass of warm gluhwein, courtesy of Murdock and his current attempts to recreate every dish in the ‘Traditional Christmas’ cook book that Hannibal had bought him as an early Christmas present, the cabin behind them was trimmed to within an inch of its life and smelled richly, not only of Murdock’s cooking and baking, but of the real tree they’d put up just that very morning. The entire place, complete with the snowman in the yard, was like a scene from a Christmas theme park and it was only at that exact moment that Face realised the whole thing was far, far more than the happy coincidence he’d assumed.

 

He turned and flicked a glance at Hannibal who was waiting for him and offered up a warm and genuine smile, “This Christmas,” he tugged Face a little closer to him, “is going to be the best ever. I promise you.”

 

He turned away at that, back to the distant view of the ski runs they’d sampled earlier on and took a huge mouthful of gluhwein. Face swallowed hard and pulled up the courage he needed, wondering why it was always easier to risk his life than his heart. “John?” Hannibal looked back at him, his brow creased slightly in wonder at the rare use of his Christian name, “I love you. You know that, right? I love you so much.”

 

Hannibal's expression changed again at that, switched to a deep, burning intensity and that, more than the cold,  honestly made Face shiver. He leaned over, pressed a wine-flavoured and powerful kiss onto Face’s lips before pulling back again, switching to a smile as happy as any Face had ever seen on him. “I do know, Temp. And I love you too, more than anything. You’re my everything.”

 

It was a lot of sentiment for two men who didn’t always express what they felt and seemed to emotionally drain them, so much so that they went back to sipping their drinks and watching the world around them, but inside, Face was so happy, so full of love, he felt he could explode.

 

It only got better as well. Snowball fights between the four of them in the yard, skiing and sledging, naff Christmas movies in front of the fire, Christmas goodies aplenty, drunken song-singing, perfect gifts exchanged and then, the best moment, Boxing Day evening and Murdock had dragged BA off to see the ice sculptures in town and left Face and Hannibal alone to enjoy a night in front of the open fire.

 

“This is perfect,” they were laid on the rug, Face waggling his Christmas socks in front of the flames with his head pillowed on Hannibal’s chest.

 

“It is,” Hannibal pulled him even closer with those words.

 

“This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

 

Face felt his hair ruffle with Hannibal's little huff of laughter. “I’m pleased. It’s mine too, it’s just been…” he seemed to flounder for the correct word, which was strange as Hannibal always knew just what to say. He pulled Face even closer and ran a predatory hand down his back and into the waistband of his loose lounge pants, “You’re right, it’s been perfect. Shit, Temp – you’re perfect.”

 

It was tempting, at that point, to laugh it off, to joke and tease Hannibal for getting soft in his old age or something like that but Face just found he couldn’t, there was something so honest about that moment and Hannibal’s words. “Do you really think so?” he’d lifted up at that, twisted his head to see Hannibal’s eyes as he replied, marvelled at the way they reflected the lights from the tree and the dancing flames and his heart swelled at how incredibly blessed he was to have this.

 

“Yes,” a warm hand slid onto his cheek and Hannibal's words were choked with emotion. “Absolutely, yes. Forever, yes.”

 

They’d moved together at that, their eyes locked, the connection burning between them and made love in front of the fire, Hannibal slowly stroking Face higher and higher until they were both crying with the intensity of it all.

 

________________

 

And, God help him, Face had believed it all.

 

Believed it so much, so hard, so completely, that the fall, when it inevitably came, was as final as it was brutal. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell over. Ever. But the traffic was slow and he was tired enough to let his barriers slide away, let his mind wander back to that day, almost a year since, and the irrevocable changes it had wrought.

 

_______________

 

“You sure about this, Face? Two more days, that’s all and then we’ll be done and everyone will be happy they’ve had their piece.”

 

Face lay back in the soft seats of the hotel lounge and tiredly rubbed at his eyes. He felt bad, Vanessa was a fabulous PR agent and she’d worked damn hard to get him the press covered he’d asked for. Face had known, from the start, that they had to move fast if they wanted to benefit from the press coverage that could be generated from their new status as free men. Hannibal's idea for them to continue as Soldiers of Fortune was perfectly plausible, but even more so if they boosted their image with a round of press-courting.

 

No one else had really been up for the slog it entailed though. BA had lost his temper one too many time, Murdock was finding all the uncertainty trying and Hannibal just hated the ‘cosying-up’ to people who had once called them ‘outlaws’. Hence, the lion’s share had fallen to Face and he’d been on a month-long whirl-wind tour of almost all fifty states, smiling and flirting his way through show after show after show, Vanessa never far from his side, always ready to provide exactly what he needed at any one time.

 

Almost.

 

Missing Hannibal had been expected, but Face had accepted it as a necessary evil; something to be endured and clawed through with a huge prize waiting at the end for him. He hadn’t expected it to hurt like a physical injury though. He hadn’t expected it to intensify with every passing week, to keep him awake at night, hugging the pillow like a teenager and trying to keep back the tears. They’d talked on the phone of course, but somehow that had just made it all the worse. Face’s isolation was so profound that hearing Hannibal going about his normal day, hearing Murdock and BA in the background bickering and fighting, it just seemed to twist the knife even deeper. And then Hannibal started being odd as well, being distant and snappy on the phone, asking about Vanessa in an ice-laden tone and making non-committed noises when Face told him how much he was missing him, how much he loved him.         

 

So, now – yes, he was sure. He understood Vanessa’s point completely but Hannibal had been positively cold on the phone the last night, making snippy comments about the parties that Face had been attending with Vanessa, how he was such a celebrity now that he was starting to get into the glossy rags and how Hannibal hoped he’d be able to come back down to the drudgery of life with the team once his brush with stardom was over. Face had realised at that point that Hannibal had no idea how hard this was for him, how little he was enjoying it and he knew he had to get home – both for his own sake and the sake of their relationship.

 

He glanced over to where Vanessa was watching him carefully from her own seat by the window. “I’m sure. I’m sorry, Ness, it’s just…” he shook his head, “I think I’ve just reached the end of my rope.”

 

Vanessa sighed and sipped at her G&T. “If this is about Hannibal-”

 

“It’s not.”

 

“If this is about Hannibal, then what kind of partner is he to ask you to stop when everything is just starting to get going for you? I’ve told you, I’ve had Fox on the phone, wanting to talk about a mini-series or something, Jennifer Lawrence’s people have been asking-”

 

Face sat forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes prickling with exhaustion and something that felt uncomfortably like tears, “Vanessa,” she stopped at the tone of his voice, “I just want to go home,” and then he had to hold his breath in, keep the desolation from spilling out and drowning them both.

 

For a moment, Vanessa just looked at him and then she sighed, reaching out and rubbing his thigh gently. “Okay, sweetheart. I’ll put everything on hold for the holidays. You go home and see your man and we’ll pick it all straight back up again in January. Okay?”

 

Face had stared at the blurred lights on the tree in the corner and hadn’t said a word.

 

-*-

 

Flights had been hard to come by and Face hadn’t felt like he could ask Hannibal for a lift home from the airport so it had been a little after ten when he’d paid the cabbie outside the beachfront property he and Hannibal had been renting and let himself silently into the hallway. The entire way home he’d mulled over the different ways he could let Hannibal know that he’d be home early, the different options they had for how to spend the evening but in the end, he’d settled on just coming home; more than anything else he just needed Hannibal, to be held by him, to be loved by him and for him to see that Face had never been happy whilst they were apart.

 

It was no surprise to find the house dark and silent, Hannibal often turned in early to read and, as Face climbed the stairs, he could see that the light was, indeed, on in the master bedroom. His heart was thumping hard in his chest, he’d missed Hannibal so much, wanted him so much – he could already feel his cock starting to perk up and take interest.

 

Reaching the bedroom door, he was suddenly nervous and stopped, straightening his suit and pushing his hair back from his eyes. Maybe he should have had a shower before coming over? Vanessa would have managed to get him into the airport lounge for sure, or maybe – maybe he and Hannibal could shower together instead? That was, unless the boss had already dropped off to sleep of course.

 

A noise from the other side of the door caught his ears then and he bolstered himself. Hannibal was awake, Hannibal would be pleased to see him. They could spend the next day in bed reacquainting themselves and then everything would be okay once more. Come January, he would not be going back to Vanessa for round two of the promotion carousel. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door.

 

Hannibal had, indeed, been on the bed and Face took a step into the room before his head caught up with his eyes and he stopped again, wrestling with the scene in front of him. For a comically long period, nothing he was seeing made sense and his desperate brain scrambled to try and come up with a solution that fit in with the sadly undeniable facts. Hannibal was naked, and Face had a great view of his butt as it bobbed up and down in front of him. He didn’t have quite so good a view of the young lady who was kneeling in front of Hannibal as she had her head down and her ass up but it appeared, from the noises that she was making, that she was having quite a good time.

 

It was the noises really, that cemented it all for Face. He’d heard those familiar little huffs and moans coming from Hannibal many times before and his cheeks burned in mortification as he realised that maybe they weren’t as private and intimate as he’d imagined. He took a step in, inexplicably drawn closer and, with the impeccable timing of fate, Hannibal’s thrusts started to speed up, to get a little more frantic. Face knew what was coming now, was marvelling at his own sense of detachment from it all, knew that Hannibal was about to come. He stood and watched, the icy cold and removed part of his brain telling him that this was the point where Hannibal used to declare his absolute and undying love for Face and at least the lady visitor didn’t get _that_.

 

Three more thrusts and then, eyes closed and head back, Hannibal was coming. Face usually loved the abandon that Hannibal enjoyed when he came, loved seeing a man, usually to wrapped up and in control, losing everything to the feelings of ecstasy he shared with Face; seeing him have that with another partner was nothing short of a knife in the guts. And then it was her turn. Face knew from experience that Hannibal could stay hard for minutes after he’d climaxed and, for the first time, noticed the hand that he was using to stimulate his lady friend. She started to whine in the back of her throat, high pitched and enough to set Face’s teeth on edge and Face found himself wondering where the hell Hannibal had learned to do that when he’d never, _ever_ , shown any interest in women at all.

 

Then it was done and the pair of them didn’t move, heads down, breathing heavily and Face was at a loss as to what the hell he should do next. He was filling up with iced water and there was a trembling starting in his legs and creeping up through the rest of his body. He’d never seen this coming, never suspected it for the tiniest instant. Despite the difficulties he and Hannibal had been having while Face had been away, he’d still never suspected that Hannibal would betray him like this, he’d never dreamt it was even possible and if Hannibal was capable of doing this, now, then what had he been doing all the years they’d been together? Had Face never been more than a back scratcher for him? Had everything they’d said and done been a lie?

 

He could walk out, just back away and hopefully they’d never even know he been there but then what was he supposed to do after that? How could he face Hannibal again and his lies and his betrayal? No, he needed Hannibal to know that he knew, needed to see if the man had any idea what he’d done to Face and the memories of their years together. He took a breath, “Hannibal-” and stopped short again.

 

That voice wasn’t his, it was thin and tremulous and just the act of speaking had invited all his swirling emotions to come up to the surface and he was in serious danger of losing it altogether. Maybe he should just walk out, maybe he should even run, leave them to it and go hide in a dark corner for the rest of his life – it wasn’t the way he’d ever thought he’d react to a betrayal.

 

He took a step back, but that single word, ripped from his heart and containing all the agony he felt inside had been enough to alert the two people on the bed to his presence. Hannibal sprang back as if burned, pulling his cock free and scrambling to his feet to stare at Face, his expression as horrified as Face had ever seen. “Face! Shit…” he took a step forward and Face took one back and he stopped again, glancing furtively at the bed as if he were wondering what Face had actually seen or whether it was too late to throw a bedsheet over the woman lounging there or not. His hands were shaking. “Sweetheart,” Face cringed at the false endearment, “I wasn’t expecting you back for days.”

 

“Obviously,” the bitter word slipped out through the ranks of his devastation.

 

“Oh my God!” this voice was from the bed, _Face’s_ bed, and, despite himself, he turned to meet the eyes of its owner, the white skinned, dark haired, red-lip-glossed and naked symbol of his agony. “I’ve just worked out why you were so keen to take me up the back door! You and him!” she gestured between Face and Hannibal with a carefully painted talon, “You’re _together_! That is just soooo sweet,” Hannibal turned to her, disgust in his expression even as she shifted over slightly and patted the mattress next to her butt. “Plenty of room, gorgeous, I’d _love_ to see the big man here fuck your hole.” Her words were punctuated with the wet _slap_ of the condom as it slid off Hannibal's cock and landed on the wooden floor and, with tears suddenly burning his eyes, Face just turned and ran.  

 

It was like he was in a dream, a nightmare, and he flew down the stairs, hammering the wooden risers, and grabbed his case before bursting out into the night. He had no idea where he was going, what he was doing, he just had to get away from the lie he thought had been true. He headed for the beach, welcoming the darkness and the roar of the surf and vaguely registered how ridiculous he must look in his Tom Ford suit and Italian leather shoes, stumbling through the dark sand tugging a wheeled Tourister behind him.

 

“Face!” the shout behind him twisted the knife even harder and he went faster, considering abandoning everything and just making for the surf but then Hannibal was there, grabbing at his arm with the hand that he’d used to pleasure _her_ and Face’s instincts took over. He whirled on the spot, anger and fear and misery coursing through him and swung a fist Hannibal’s way, feeling a flicker of satisfaction as it smashed home and sent Hannibal sprawling backward in the sand.

 

“You keep away from me!” he was appalled by the sob in his voice but there was nothing he could do now, the floodgates had been opened and all of that hot agony was pouring out, “You fucking _bastard_. How could you? How could you lie for all these years?”

 

“Face,” Hannibal was scrabbling in the sand, wearing only a pair of shorts, his hand, _that_ hand, reaching out again and Face recoiled from him, “I never lied, you have to believe me, I’ve never told you a lie, ever.”

 

“Lies don’t need words,” Face spat, “I’ve been living in one and now I’m done. With you – I’m done.”

 

And then, with tears streaming down his face he turned and ran, leaving everything behind, knowing he could outsprint Hannibal any day but wishing he could run until the pain disappeared.

 

___________________

 

Face pulled up at the grocery store and let out a long breath to try and ease the knot of agony that his thoughts had tightened in his throat. _This_ was why he tried to never think about that night anymore. In the end, he’d run for hours and then aimlessly walked the streets for days, not eating, sleeping rough, genuinely considering ending it all. But his sense of self-preservation won through, though, and he turned up at Murdock’s door on Christmas morning having lost all track of time and felt bad for the worry he could see etched into his friend’s face.

 

It had been a rough time, a hard year, and still the pain was as sharp and as unerring as it had been all those days ago. Face had never been back to the house; Murdock had picked up his gear for him and he’d never met with Hannibal or even spoken to him on the phone. He’d read a letter though, one of the many that Hannibal had sent him throughout the early part of the year, read the lies about how it had been a one-off and how much Hannibal loved him, how he’d never meant to hurt him and wanted him back so badly. Truth was though, how could he have done that if he’d loved Face? How could he have brought a woman back to their bed, _their bed_ , if he’d felt anything for Face at all?

 

It had all been a lie. Face had been a convenient fuck in warzones and then afterwards when they were on the run – that was all. Who’d have ever thought that the one thing that Face had fought for – getting their wanted status over-turned – would lead to the end of everything he’d held dear? He’d been such a fool.

 

Never again though, Face switched the engine off and reached for the door handle, he was done with Hannibal and he was done with romantic encounters with anyone else for the rest of his life. He was far safer on his own, didn’t need anything at all apart from his friendship with Murdock, the whole sordid affair had even ruined his relationship with BA after the big guy had bawled Face out for not giving Hannibal another chance. No man is an island? Well, Face was, and he was happier and more content because of it.

 

Or at least he would be once it stopped hurting so damn much.

 

He’d been about to swing out of the car, already had one foot on the asphalt when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and spotted a very familiar figure lurking surreptitiously against the wall of the store. Just like that, the dull ache of rejection spluttered and flared into a searing agony once more and, angrily, Face pulled his leg back into the car and slammed the door. Hannibal fucking Smith. Now Face would have another sleepless night and another morning without coffee – why couldn’t the man take a hint?

 

By the time he got home, Face’s temper was just about boiling over. A detour to another grocery store had proved fruitless as they didn’t have his favoured brand of coffee and his ability to cope was slipping by the second – all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and stay there until the world was right again but the shrill ringing of the landline in the apartment was what greeted him instead. For a long second he stood and stared at it but then, with a sigh, he snatched it up from the cradle, “Yeah?”

 

There was a pause and then, “Faceman?” It was BA, a voice Face hadn’t heard in months but there was an edge to it that twisted at his already tender insides and he found himself gripping the receiver even more tightly.

 

“Yeah, what’s up?”

 

“Face – I need to talk to you. It’s about my momma, can you come by?”

 

Face’s veins filled with ice. BA’s momma had been sick, had been waiting for a kidney transplant but no donors were available. BA had been tested, the whole team had volunteered, but no matches had been found. He closed his eyes and feared the worst – just before Christmas as well.

 

“Of course,” the words were out of his mouth in a second. “I’ll come straight over.”

 

Worrying about Momma, who’d never been anything other than wonderful to Face, pushed all thoughts of Hannibal out of his head and he drove to BA’s apartment as quickly as he could, mulling over different scenarios and trying to predict how BA would cope with it all. What he didn’t expect, when he got out of the car in the parking lot of BA’s building, was the big guy to be standing there, eyes red-rimmed, suitcase at his side and a huge hug for Face.

 

“She’s getting her transplant,” the joy – and the fear – were clear in his eyes. “I’m on my way up now but she wanted you to know. Wanted me to fix things between us before I left. Wanted me to tell you how sorry I am for getting in the way between you and the boss.”

 

It was a lot for BA to say. Emotions were never really his thing.

 

“I’m sorry, brother. I never meant to make it worse for you,” another hug, so tight that Face could hardly breathe. “And I’ve missed you. And worried ‘bout you. You think we can make it right again? When I get home?”

 

Face had missed BA too, had been hurt that he’d taken Hannibal’s side over Face’s but then Murdock had done the opposite. But BA was right, they were brothers and there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Momma, the news that she was getting her operation was genuinely the best thing that had happened to Face in twelve months.

 

“Of course,” his throat was tight again, it was turning into a hell of a day. “You flying?” he pulled back to look BA in the eye and noticed the terrified edge to his nod.

 

“Yeah, I’ll miss it if I drive. Got a cab coming any minute, was hoping you’d get here first,” he looked about at that, a touch surreptitiously, and Face wondered if he was worrying about making the flight.

 

“Cancel it,” Face disentangled himself from BA’s arms and grabbed the suitcase. “And get in, I’ll drive you.”

 

BA didn’t need asking twice.

 

-*-

 

The traffic was hell but they made it in time even if BA had had to run the second they’d reached the departure gates. For a moment Face just stood and looked at the gates as they’d swung closed behind him, wondering about Momma, wishing her all the luck in the world and hoping that BA would keep in touch, let him know how she was doing. The terminal was crowded though, too many people rushing around with smiles on their faces and gifts in their arms and Face was in no mood for any of it. He walked back to the elevator and waited until one arrived, pressing the button for the basement parking and watching, impassively, as the doors slid shut. He hadn’t actually moved before they pinged open again and Face sighed loudly, not really wanting to share his car with anyone and just wishing for his bed.

 

It had been a long, long day.                                          


	2. Part Two

Hannibal slowly sat up, pushing himself forward to look out of the window at the bright blue sky and to scrub his face tiredly. Another day to get through; another day to berate himself for what he’d lost. He frowned at the direction of his thoughts; what he’d thrown away was far more accurate…

 

Swinging his legs from the bed, he trudged over to the balcony and stepped out to look at the sea, trying so hard not to think of all the times that Face had done this when they were together. Not on this particular balcony of course, Hannibal had ditched that house straight after that one appalling night and instead rented another one, one that he’d hoped that Face would one day come and share with him. That had never happened though. Face had never set one foot in the house, Hannibal doubted he even knew it existed and why would he when he’d never even spoken to Hannibal? But still Hannibal had to hope, still Hannibal had to believe that one day, one day soon, Face would forgive him just enough to let Hannibal maybe even start to apologise.

 

Three hundred and fifty-nine days. That’s how long it had been since his monumental act of stupidity, the one that had brought about an abrupt and final end to his happiness.  Three hundred and fifty-nine days. A long time to live with bitter, bitter regrets.

 

Hannibal shook himself and turned for the shower. He had no business moping around like a sad old man. No business and no right. He had to get himself up and get on with his day – even if it did feel like his heart had been ripped from his chest. To try and distract himself from the biting pain, Hannibal stepped into the hot water and let his mind slide back to happier times. 

 

 

_______________________

 

“Hannibal…”

 

Hannibal loved to hear that tone in Face’s voice, love that edge of desperation and need, loved that it was all there for him. “Yes, sweetheart?” the pet names were new and thrilling and only further thickened Hannibal's cock.

 

“For, God’s sake, just touch me…”

 

A chuckle burst from Hannibal's lips then, even as he continued to slide himself in and out of Face’s silken heat. “No can do, baby. You know the rules tonight, you agreed to them after all.” Face let out a frustrated growl and tugged at the silk that held his wrists to the bed head – there was no heat in his complaints, no safe word had been used and Hannibal laughed again, leaning forward to whisper into his lover’s ear, “Gonna make you come like this. Just like this. You’re gonna love it.”

 

This time Face groaned, pressing his head into the pillows and thrusting his hips up to meet Hannibal’s slide in. “Told you, boss,” that word, in bed, always lit Hannibal on fire. “Not gonna happen. Never works for me, need your hand.”

 

An irrational flash of jealousy surged through Hannibal with those words and just tripled his determination to make this happen for Face. “No you don’t,” he made sure his voice was low and sensuous, “you just need me, you only ever need me.”

 

Face groaned again, his untouched cock bobbing frantically at Hannibal's words, “Always…”

 

They slid back into silence, Hannibal making sure his thrusts-in were long, measured and perfectly aimed at Face’s prostate. It was hard work, holding himself in-check when all he wanted to do was pound away until he came, but, God in heaven, it was worth it, watching Face writhing beneath him, the black silk holding his wrists in place, a light sheen of sweat over his body making him shine like an ethereal being, the fairy lights from the windows painting him in delicate colours.

 

“Hannibal…” Face’s eyes were screwed tightly shut now, his body as tight as a bow and Hannibal knew he was so, so close.

 

“Come on, sweetheart,” another thrust, expertly positioned and a little more forceful, “Let yourself go.”

 

“I can’t…” the words were gasped out into the night.

 

“Yes, you can. For me. You can. Come on, baby,” he reached forward and took hold of a pebbled nipple, squeezing tightly and Face cried out, his body lifting onto heels and shoulders, his entire being arching like a rainbow. Hannibal had to lift himself to follow, to keep his thrusts fast and perfect, just enough to keep edging him closer, closer, closer until, finally…

 

“Ohhhhh!” Face’s cry was equal parts ecstasy and surprise and Hannibal had to tamp down on the feelings of joyful pride that surged through him to ensure that he kept the pace and the angle just perfectly right, that he kept Face’s orgasm going as long as he possibly could and it only got harder as the sight of that untouched cock spurting pearly white jets into the night and tight contractions of spasming muscles pushed him over his own edge.

 

As soon as he was done, Face collapsed like a popped balloon, flopping back onto the mattress, every muscle in his body lax and limp. Hannibal was quick to move. Regretfully, he withdrew from that wonderful grasping hold Face’s body still had on him, allowing himself a satisfied smile as he saw a trail of his come follow him out, then he grabbed a towel from the side of the bed and tenderly wiped his boy down, checking that he was okay, that there was no tearing or reddening he needed to see to. Once that was done, he reached up and slipped the knots in the silk ties, carefully bending Face’s elbows until his arms were folded gently across his belly and finally pulling the duvet from the floor up to cover them both as he slid in next to that beautiful body.

 

“Face…” he trailed gentle patterns up a stubbled cheek and around a gently pulsing temple, “You in there, baby? You with me?”

 

For a minute, there was no response but Hannibal didn’t worry about that, he’d found from their earliest days together that, if Face really let himself go in sex, then he could almost pass out with the intensity of it all – something to bear in mind when he was topping. He continued with his gentle stroking, his soft words and, finally, Face’s long lashes flickered and his eyes opened, a beautiful, satisfied smile breaking out across his face as he turned to Hannibal. “You did it, boss,” his words were a husky, breathless whisper.

 

Hannibal returned the smile and leaned in to press a kiss to those dry lips. “No, sweetheart, you did it. That was incredible, you are just so beautiful, in here,” he clarified his point by pressing down on Face’s chest, right over his heart, always wanting to make sure that the kid knew he was wanted for what was inside him, rather than what he looked like. 

 

Face’s smile wavered a little and then slipped away but what replaced it was somehow even more beautiful, even more honest, even more true and Hannibal found himself holding his breath, somehow just knowing that this, right now, was a game changer. “Hannibal… John…” Face’s voice was the barest of whispers and his eyes were shining, reflecting the lights from the tree in the corner of the room. “I’ve never felt this way about someone before,” Hannibal brushed down his cheek, “I think I love you. In fact,” he swallowed, “I know I do. I love you. I love you so much.” 

 

Hannibal had said the words before, had dropped that bomb and watched Face trying to laugh it off and then trying not to run from it all, but he’d finally seen that he’d been believed. Face had never reciprocated though. Never. Not even a ‘Me too’ and so this gift was wonderful, an absolute Christmas treasure. A smile bloomed across his face and he leaned in, heart pounding.

 

“And that is all I could ever wish for,” his wandering fingers traced the stubbled outline of a jaw. “Your love. That’s all I’ll ever need to keep me whole. I love you too. So much. So deeply. And I always will.”

 

Face smiled back, tentative and a little teary and they kissed again and Hannibal had thought that he’d never, ever felt that happy, that blessed, before.

 

_________________________

 

Hannibal liked to walk to work on a morning. He liked the quiet and he liked the solitude which was pretty ironic really when he spent most of his day in a state of both.

 

After that night, the team as it had been was no longer a viable option. Murdock was almost as mad at him as Face was crushed and his wonderfully cohesive unit had effectively splintered right down the middle into two, distinctly separate, halves. He had, briefly, considered carrying on with just him and BA but the thought of living that life without Face was so abhorrent that he quickly gave that idea up.

 

Immediately after the holidays, when Hannibal had been at his lowest ebb, he had considered not working at all, but there was never any possibility of compensation and, quite frankly, he needed the money and eventually he stumbled into his role of gardener when talking to an elderly man who’d fallen in the street. Howie was a retired script-writer, pushing ninety and struggling to look after the gardens that his late wife had loved. Before he knew it, Hannibal had a job and had spent the better part of the last ten months carefully tending the choked gardens back to life. It was a shame he couldn’t manage that for himself.

 

The climate was balmy, the hard work kept him in shape and helped him to sleep at night and the pay let him make the rent on the ridiculous house he kept for Face. It would have been an ideal job if it weren’t for the fact that the long hours with only the plants for company allowed his thoughts to wander back to a life he hadn’t ruined.   

 

_______________________

 

Hannibal hissed a little in pain as he climbed out of the back of the jeep and limped awkwardly towards the team’s tent, only just realising that it was in complete darkness as he reached the opening.

 

“You okay there, sir?” the private who’d driven him back from medical was hovering, his face drawn in concern as he watched Hannibal limping on.

 

Pulling himself up, Hannibal glanced back over his shoulder. “Of course. I’m just surprised…” he shook his head, there was no way he was going to discuss this with an outsider to his team but the Private just nodded.

 

“They’ll be at the party, sir. It is Christmas Eve after all.”

 

“Party?” Did Hannibal know about that? Christmas Eve? He wasn’t even sure he’d known it was _that._ It had been a tough few weeks…

 

“Yes, sir. Lieutenant Peck has arranged it all.”

 

Hannibal turned right around at that, grimacing as his stitches pulled across the gash in his thigh. “Face?” the Private nodded, “But he’s been with me. On missions.”

 

The Private just shrugged. “You want me to take you over there, sir?”

 

“No,” the word was out of Hannibal's mouth before he’d even thought about it. He was exhausted. In pain. Dirty and sweaty. He wanted nothing more than… his face pulled into a frown, he wanted nothing more than Face, actually. He stood for a second and sighed, then turned and limped his way back to the waiting jeep. “Yes. Why not? It’s Christmas Eve after all.”

 

It wasn’t a long drive, just long enough to mull over the Private’s assentation that it was Face who had organised this particular shindig. If Hannibal tried hard enough then he could certainly remember talk along those lines, Face had definitely mentioned it before, how he was going to organise the best party across any base in the middle east. Hannibal had listened indulgently and laughed at tales of pine trees and fake snow, giant hams and egg nog but now he wondered. Face had been away from base for three weeks, three tough, exhausting weeks and now he’d organised a Christmas party? Hannibal felt a tug of sympathy deep inside his chest; Face always liked perfection, to produce a party which was anything short of that would kill him.

 

“Here you go, sir,” the Private pulled up as close to the door as he could manage and Hannibal silently thanked him as the throbbing in his leg just seemed to crank itself up a notch.

 

“Thank you, son,” Hannibal gritted his teeth and swung his legs out onto the sand. “Have a Merry Christmas.”

 

“And you, sir.”

 

It wasn’t a long walk, but the music was so loud that by the time Hannibal reached the door he could feel the ground under his feet vibrating – he shook his head and pushed his way in.

 

A wall of heat and sweat and noise hit him as soon as he stepped into the prefabricated structure. The place was heaving, it seemed that the entire base was assembled inside and Hannibal hobbled back against the canvas wall, fearful that his newly-stitched leg would get jostled. Once safely hidden away, he let his eyes drift around the room and take in everything he could see. There were the trees, at least four of them and, from where he was standing they certainly looked like real firs. Then there was the buffet table, laden with foods that had most certainly not come from the mess hall here and – was that a _ham_ right on the end there??? The roof space was hung with gaudy decorations in every shining colour, there were bunches of holly and mistletoe, baubles and so many strings of fairy lights. The music was Christmassy and the dance floor packed with happy, smiling faces gyrating the night away. In fact, Hannibal quickly skimmed the entire room, _everyone_ was smiling, everyone was laughing – you could almost taste the happiness as it flowed around the room; such a contrast to the dark and tense atmosphere Hannibal had noted when they’d arrived back that very morning.

 

It was great to see, wonderful to think that maybe Face had had a hand in engineering this and then he stopped as he spotted one face that wasn’t happy, one face that looked tired and drawn and in pain and his heart started beating a little faster – this face was _his_ Face.

 

“No, it’s okay thanks, Jim, I need to head out now, got a few things I need to check up on and-” Face stopped dead as he saw Hannibal standing in front of him whilst Jim did a speedy about-turn and melted off into the crowds. If anything, Face’s expression just turned even more tragic and he edged forward, eyes flicking down to the dark stain of blood on Hannibal's thigh before leaning close enough to speak straight into the other man’s ear. “Shit, boss, I’m sorry. I wanted to be done here before you needed me. I wanted to be the one who picked you up. But the music system wouldn’t work and the dry ice machine hadn’t turned up, some of the trees hadn’t been decorated and the guy who was supposed to be playing Santa was in fucking medical.”

 

Hannibal frowned at the edge he could hear to Face’s voice, an edge he knew well enough to know that his boy had had enough of this whole damn party. “Hey,” he allowed his fingers to close tightly around Face’s wrist and his frown deepened at the trembling he could feel. “You showered since we got back?” Face shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together. “Eaten? Slept? Been to medical?”

 

“I don’t need to go-”

 

“Maybe not, but you need checking over, you were knocked down by a fucking _camel_ , remember…”

 

The ghost of a smile whispered across Face’s exhausted features as he allowed Hannibal to draw him back towards the exit. “Yeah, he was a mean son of a bitch, wasn’t he? No wonder Mary wouldn’t let them into the stable with the Magi…”

 

Hannibal laughed at the quick jump in topic and tugged them both into the relative cool of the evening, stopping just to one side, in a dark corner with an incredible view of the night sky and indulging himself by letting his fingers run through the over-long stubble on Face’s chin. “You organised all of this?”

 

He saw Face’s brows draw together into a frown. “Yeah. You knew I was, I told you about it.”

 

“Yes, but we’ve been off-base for three weeks. You’ve been _busy_ , kid, how the hell have you managed _this_?”

 

“I’d committed to it,” there was an emptiness to Face’s tone that Hannibal didn’t like. “I don’t back out of a commitment and you know me, I’m good at arranging shit.”

 

He was, he was the best, but sometimes he just didn’t know when to stop.

 

“You’ve done an incredible job,” Face’s eyes flickered to the ground. “You have transformed the holiday for everyone here, made a huge difference to morale. I’m so proud of you, Face.”

 

Those gorgeous blue eyes flicked back up at that, ensure, asking, no, _pleading_ and Hannibal knew just what was required of him.

 

“But now we’re going home. The party can run itself and other people can clean up afterwards, _you_ need to come back with me for some TLC.”

 

They started walking again, Hannibal trying not to limp with every step, especially not after he noticed how badly Face was stumbling along.

 

“But, Boss…” and of course Face wasn’t done. “You’re hurt. That fucking sword…” he shook his head. “It should be me sorting you out. I was just on my way to medical for you, I was, and-”

 

Hannibal stepped in a silenced him with a kiss, just a brief one, ever aware of the possibility of prying eyes in the darkness of the camp. “I know you were. And now I need you in bed with me. Right? We both need the sleep and you know that I can’t do that without you by my side.”

 

Face stared for a moment, wrestling with what he felt he should do. “That’s what you need?” he eventually asked.

 

“It is.”

 

Hannibal was rewarded with a tired but happy smile at that, “Well, how could I possibly disappoint you then? Step this way, Boss, and we’ll soon have you tucked up in bed.”

 

That sounded good to Hannibal, in fact, that sounded like the best Christmas present he could have hoped for in his current state. They limped on in silence, both doing their best to hold the other up and Hannibal smiled at the way that one of the brightest points in the sky, a planet he supposed, seemed to be hovering right above their tent. He shook his head at his Christmas whimsy and just kept plodding onwards, hoping that there were no camels in _their_ stable either.        

 

_______________________

 

  

Hannibal laughed a little at the memory, even if it had necessitated a bout of heavy blinking. Then, he broke off a corner of his sandwich and threw it to the attendant robin laughing again when the little guy seemed to nod his thanks before gulping down his prize in one go. The robin arrived most days around lunch time and Hannibal had Christened him Buddy, not for any other reason than that’s what he first called him.

 

“You want some more?”

 

It was salami today, not Buddy’s favourite, but Hannibal’s shopping trip the previous evening had been abandoned when he’d seen Face pull away from the store just as Hannibal had pulled up. He’d tried to track him after that but had stayed back a little too far, allowed Face to get away from him and lost him in the evening rush. He hadn’t had the heart to go back for groceries after that. Buddy hopped up and down in what he obviously thought was an endearing manner and Hannibal threw him another scrap, realising with a sick jolt that this tiny little bird was the only living creature he’d exchanged words with in the three days since he’d last spoken to BA on the phone.

 

How had his life managed to get to this stage? He thought back over Christmases past – they might not all have been idyllic, but they’d always been happy, especially after he’d met Face.

 

_________________

 

“Was this part of your fucking plan then, Hannibal?”

 

The attitude in Face’s voice was there to cover the fear, but it wasn’t really doing a good enough job. Hannibal could understand that, Face had never been a fan of the dark and the cold and, as they did their best to hide from the sight of the bad guys by bobbing in the black water under the boardwalk, he knew that the kid was putting up with a fair chunk of both.

 

“The plan involves us waiting for BA’s delivery. I never actually specified _where_ that would take place.”

 

“Bull. Shit.” Hannibal could hear the shivering in Face’s tone.

 

“It’ll be fine, kid.” Hannibal reached out in the darkness and grabbed a handful of sodden clothing, pulling Face close to him. “Ten minutes, max. Then we can get out of here and go drink some eggnog.”

 

“Some fucking Christmas day…”

 

Hannibal kissed at a cold ear getting a mouthful of sea water as he did so. “This is only the start of it, Templeton, stop pouting. We’ll be done here well before dawn; we can grab a few hours of sleep and then spend the rest of the day doing whatever it is that you’d like to do.”

 

There was no answer to that and Hannibal let his eyes drift back to the busy wharf-side as he held Face up against his chest and wished that BA would get a move on.

 

“Sitting in front of the fire.”

 

So long had passed by in silence that it took Hannibal a little while to work out from where Face’s shivered comment had originated. When it hit him, he smiled and tugged Face closer still. “Yeah? That want you want to do? Even though we’re in California?”

 

“It’s exactly what I want to do. That’s why I scammed us a house with a fucking fire.”

 

“Ah,” Hannibal let out a low chuckle. “I had wondered.”

 

They drifted into silence again, Hannibal finding it hard not to be mesmerised by the bright splashes of colour from the fairy lights on the dockside as they floated in the thick, black, water. “You don’t want to spend the day in bed?” He was speaking for his own benefit as much as Face’s, BA was certainly taking his own, sweet-time arriving.

 

Face thought about that. “Well, we could start there if you like. I’ve got you something in your stocking that you might enjoy…”

 

Hannibal felt a stirring of warmth deep in his belly at those whispered words, which was something as he suspected that his genitals were currently trying to climb right back up inside his body. “I see. Sounds intriguing.”

 

A little huff of laughter was his only reply to that.

 

“What if BA doesn’t come?”

 

More time had passed and Hannibal had had to concentrate to work out the words over Face’s shivering. He pulled them even closer together, but it wasn’t easy to keep a grip on the man in his arms as his fingers were so numb. “He’ll come.” It was hard to get the words out himself – it almost felt like his cheeks were frozen.

 

“Fuck!” Face hissed in his ear, exploding in a fury of thrashing and struggling that had the water around them frothing and seething and Hannibal's eyes on the men on the wharf even as he tried to get Face to keep still.

 

“Hey, hey, hey!” he hung grimly onto struggling limbs, “Keep the fuck _still_! They’ll hear us!”

 

“Something touched my leg,” Face was almost climbing up Hannibal’s body, “Something fucking _huge_ , Hannibal. I’m telling you, we have to get out of here.”

 

Hannibal felt it then himself, a nudging at the back of his calf, powerful but gentle. Inquisitive, testing. He just hoped it wouldn’t turn hungry. “It’ll be a sea lion,” they were common here after all. “It’s just checking us out.”

 

“Yeah?” at least Face had stopped shivering with the excitement of it all. “I’ve seen Jaws you know, Hannibal. That wasn’t a sea lion then, was it?”

 

Hannibal was about to point out that it wasn’t _real_ either when the high-pitched whine of an outboard motor cut through the sickly slopping of the water on the boardwalk. “BA,” Hannibal almost cried with relief. “Get going, get into position. He’ll make the pick-up and then come get us.”

 

It was hard work swimming through the neon-splashed water, avoiding the pools of light whilst all the while imagining the hordes of hungry sharks circling in the blackness below. When BA finally swung around the bay to collect them, neither of them had the strength or the grip to haul themselves into the little boat. Fortunately, BA had both as well as a stack of space blankets and dry clothes but even so, they were both still laid up in bed for four days.

 

It wasn’t a bad four days though. Murdock had waited on them, hand and foot and they’d watched TV, exchanged gifts, made love at least a dozen times and Face had been right, Hannibal had loved the little gift in his stocking…       

 

_________________

 

Sandwich forgotten, Hannibal stared out across the empty garden, ignoring Buddy and his exaggerated attempts to get Hannibal's attention. It was crazy that Hannibal would happily, gratefully swap that Christmas Day for this one, that he would run the risk of hypothermia and being eaten by sharks just for the opportunity to have Face with him and near him and still loving him. He’d been a fool back then, arrogantly believing that his plan would work just because it had been _his_ and he was a fool right now if he thought that Face would ever even agree to look at him again, never mind grant him an audience to apologise.

 

The familiar sick, swirling feeling started up in his stomach once more. What had he done? What had he been _thinking_ of? It was stupid. He was stupid and he deserved to spend every Christmas for the rest of his days very much alone.

 

He pushed to his feet, sending Buddy scurrying off for the safety of the hedges, and stooped to pick up his rake. He was a stupid old man who’d once had everything and thrown it all away.

 

________________

 

“Face, sweetheart, you look gorgeous. Perfect.”

 

“I’m not sure,” Face was tugging at the lapels of his jacket, trying to cover the vest underneath before opening it up again and frowning at his reflection. “You think it’s too much? Too _opulent_?”

 

It had taken Face three weeks of shopping to even _choose_ this outfit, Hannibal had honestly never even dreamed that LA had so many men’s outfitters available. He’d loved it then and he loved it now, but not as much as he loved Face – there was nothing in heaven and Earth that he loved as much as Face. Pushing off the wall where he’d been leaning, he stepped in and pressed himself up against Face’s back, his chin on a shoulder, his eyes taking in their joint reflection. “You want my honest opinion?” he asked gently, “A thorough one?”

 

Face met his eyes in the glass and nodded although Hannibal could see the fear there and he returned the nod before flicking his eyes to the floor, starting his appraisal there. “Okay then, the shoes. They’re smart and clean. Not too shiny, not too dressy, just smart and well-made and tasteful. And black. They should always be black.”

 

Face allowed himself a little smile at Hannibal's gentle dig at some of his more adventurous choices in footwear.

 

“Now, socks,” Hannibal took hold of fold of trouser and tugged it up a little, frowning at what he saw. “Well, I still think you should have gone with the Christmas socks but if you’re going to be stubborn on that one,” Face huffed a little laugh, “then I reckon plain black are the way to go.”

 

“They’re silk,” Face offered quietly and Hannibal nodded.

 

“Are they, now? Good… Does that mean you have the matching silk boxers on as well?” Face’s half-smile in the mirror was his only answer to that and he leaned in, gently kissing the side of his lover’s head. “Excellent. I shall look forward to that little treat later. Okay, moving on,” dropping the trouser leg back into place, Hannibal dusted it down and then ran his fingers up the side seam, feeling the fine material as it ghosted across his finger-tips. “The suit. It feels exquisite. It’s obviously good quality without being ostentatious. It says to me that you are a man who appreciates quality but isn’t one for being too showy.”

 

“And the colour?”

 

“Perfect. A shade too light to be an ordinary navy suit but not light enough to be gaudy. It makes you stand out but subtly so. It matches your eyes as well.” Face flushed a little. “The cut of the jacket is neat enough to let everyone see that you’re fit and healthy, beautifully made, but it’s not too tight, it doesn’t scream _fashion_ over classic.”

 

“Open or closed?”

 

“Open,” Hannibal reached around and pulled the jacket open a little further, “because this is simply gorgeous.” Hannibal had loved the vest in the shop. Had been a little shocked at the price of it but had conceded that it had been worth every single cent. He looked at it again now, the rich wine colour, same shade as a good Bordeaux, the heavy silk, the tiny buttons that defied the laws of physics the way that they made the material cling to Face’s shirt over his abs… it was nothing short of perfection.

 

“You don’t think it’s too much?”

 

“Are you kidding? It’s just perfect, just absolutely perfect. I honestly can’t think of any other way to describe it.”

 

Face nodded. “And the tie? You sure on the blue?”

 

The tie was the same shade as the suit, plain and neat, it offset the grandeur of the vest to perfection. “Absolutely. And the shirt too.” It was soft and tailor-made, white and simple and made Hannibal just want to rip it off the gorgeous body it was hiding. “I’m telling you, you look perfect, just right for the occasion.”

 

There was no answer to that, Hannibal watched as Face assessed himself once more, critical eyes running up and down his outfit, fingers tugging and straightening and adjusting before he nodded, just the once and stepped forward. “Okay then, let’s do this.”

 

Hannibal squeezed a hip and then reached around to open the bedroom door. “Okay then, you got the envelope?”

 

Face patted his jacket pocket, “Yeah.”   

 

“And I’ve loaded some wine into the trunk-”

 

“Wine?” Face’s brow creased. “But I though the money was the present? You said it would be enough?”

 

“Of course it’s enough,” Hannibal soothed, reaching out to take Face’s hand. “But it’s nice to take a little something individually. Right? I thought you’d like that?”

 

“I guess,” Face’s frown was still there. “I just don’t want to look too… flash, that’s all.”

 

Hannibal shook his head. “You won’t. Now come on, we’ll be late.”

 

\--*--

 

Three hours later, Hannibal sat back in his chair and surreptitiously loosened the belt of his trousers a little. It had been a lovely night, a great meal and they still had two courses to go. He let his eyes drift around the table, the earnest expressions on the faces of the nuns and priests as they watched one of their more troublesome ex-charges explaining how his team of wanted ex-soldiers had recently driven away a gang of drunken hoodlums from an orphanage in Ecuador. The case had been a tough one for Face, too many painful memories stirred up, but the kid had managed it all well and the end had been happy for everyone, something that Hannibal had worried about when they had first taken it on.

 

Face looked alive as he related the tale, his jacket gone, his sleeves rolled up, the vest almost glowing in the candlelight, a slight flush from the wine and the food on his cheeks, laughter reverberating around the table as he got to the part where he and Murdock had dressed up as nuns to sneak in past the guards. Hannibal couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t stop the warm feelings of pride and love that free-flowed out of him.

 

He looked up and caught the Monsignor watching him and registered the concern in that kindly-lined face. Face had been thrown into a panic when this offer of a Christmas meal had arrived and Hannibal had known that the panic had been tripled because the invitation had included Hannibal as well. Nothing had been said, but Face had been terrified that this was an opportunity to berate him for his unholy choices in love. Hannibal had known otherwise though, he’d known that it was far more about _him_ , about checking whether he was a good match for Monsignor Magill’s favourite alumni. He wondered how he was doing in the test, wondered how close he was to passing, if he’d ever be good enough, in the old priest’s eyes, for Face.

 

The moment held, the Monsignor studied him a moment longer and then he smiled, a real smile, as warm and genuine as the whole evening and he lifted his glass a little in acknowledgement. Hannibal felt that warmth run right through him, right to his toes and lifted his own glass before looking back to watch Face finish his story.           

 

__________________

 

The afternoon passed slowly as Hannibal raked up the rest of the dead leaves and set them to burn in the corner behind the garage.  Buddy had long ago deserted him and Hannibal had exchanged a quick wave with Howie as he’d set off in a cab to spend the holidays with his daughter.

 

Hannibal himself hadn’t spared much thought as to what he was planning on doing with his holiday period because, in truth, he wanted nothing more than to let it all pass by him without even acknowledging it. He would have done that, as well, if it hadn’t been for BA and his insistence that they somehow mark the occasion. Hannibal had hoped that the big guy would have gone to Chicago for the holidays. Now that they were no longer wanted men they were free to go where they wanted, whenever they wanted. It seemed that BA had received his annual invitation to spend Christmas with his Momma but Hannibal had been horrified when that invitation had been extended to include him. A jolly family holiday was far more than Hannibal could even begin to cope with, but in addition to that, BA’s Momma was ill, was failing rapidly as she waited for a kidney transplant and Hannibal couldn’t add to her stress by being one more guest for her to manage over the festive period.

 

At least that’s what he told himself…

 

But BA had shocked him once more by announcing that he wasn’t going to go to Chicago at all, that if Hannibal was too ‘pig-headed’ to accept an invitation for the holidays then BA would have to do whatever he could to make sure that ‘the fool’ wasn’t on his own. His assertions that he wanted to be on his own fell on deaf ears and Hannibal had begun to realise that, for BA, this was as much about living with the loss of Face and Murdock as it was anything else.

 

The consequences of Hannibal's stupidity had been felt far and wide and he’d never stop paying that price. In a way, he hoped that would always be the case as he could never pay enough. Face had loved him, trusted him, needed him and what had he done? Destroyed all of that. Destroyed Face. A lifetime of penance would never be enough.  

 

_________________

 

“Woo hoo! Hannibal, this is awesome! This is the best present you have ever got me, like, _ever_!”

 

Face laughed again as he steered the jet ski towards a row of breakers and hit them head on, yelling in pure joy as they cleared the ocean, holding them both on by his grip on the handlebars alone.

 

“It’s not a gift,” Hannibal was finding it hard to speak with his face pressed tightly to Face’s life-preserver, trying to double the holding power of his arms and prevent a very uncomfortable landing in the choppy waters. “It’s supposed to be recon.”

 

“It is recon,” Face swung the jet ski around, almost catapulting Hannibal into the sea. “And I’m blending in, boss. You see any of these other guys pootling around like they’re taking their granny to church?”

 

Hannibal was finding it difficult to see anything with his cheek pressed against Face’s back.

 

“Hey, Hannibal! See over there? See those buoys? You reckon they’re there to slalom around them?”

 

Hannibal didn’t reckon that at all, he reckoned they were there marking lobster pots but he never got the chance to voice his opinion as Face gunned the accelerator once more and he was left clinging on for dear life.

 

The next ten minutes were a blur of bouncing and splashing, Face whooping and mouthfuls of seawater but eventually even Face grew bored of weaving in and out of the tightly packed markers and before he knew it, Hannibal was speeding back out towards the horizon. This was better, he conceded. They’d cleared the reef and so left the rolling waves behind them, and Face had decided to go for speed, skimming over the flat sea rather than throwing them both around as he twisted and turned. Slowly, cautiously, Hannibal raised his head a little, making sure he maintained his iron-like grip around Face’s chest and owlishly looked about him.

 

“Alright now then, boss?” Face, of course, noticed the change and his yell reverberated through Hannibal's taut nerves. “Not so bad when you get used to it, is it?”

 

There was no answer to that question though. Hannibal knew exactly how easy Face was to encourage into reckless behaviour and he didn’t want any word he said to be seen as permission, tacit or otherwise, to start going crazy again. Instead, he looked about him, trying to pinpoint the house on the rocks that they were supposed to be raiding that very night.

 

There it was, a low-lying thing, white and shining in the sun, the side facing the water a long, sweeping curve, windows glinting in his eyes, and what was that on top? Was that an observation deck or simply a-

 

His thoughts were snatched away from him by the sickening swerve of the jet ski once more and he almost fell backwards into the ocean. Just in time, his arms tightened and he managed to pin his feet back onto the runners even as Face’s excited cry reached his ears. “Oh, boss, _look_!” Was the idiot _pointing_?

 

“Two hands on the handlebars!”

 

“Flying fish! Hundreds of them! There! Look! And- Fuck!”

 

Hannibal had managed to look, could only see the many glints of silver as they flashed out of the ocean around them but then came the dolphins, almost as many, weaving around the ski as they chased and harried the flying fish, leaping and spinning and looking every bit as joyful as Face himself did, laughing and laughing and laughing as he wove through the thick of it all. If Hannibal hadn’t been so worried about dying, he would have been stunned by the beauty of it all.

 

-*-

 

It had only been a thirty-minute hire, but to Hannibal it felt more like thirty years. His knees were weak and his stomach was rolling as they checked in with the man on the beach and handed their life-preservers back.

 

“Was it good? Was it good?” Murdock was bouncing inanely in front of them as they headed up the beach to the bar where a sedate BA was waiting with the drinks. “Was it fast? Was it bumpy? What did you see? Did you fall off, Hannibal?”

 

Face laughed and clapped Hannibal on the shoulder, pushing him forward a little. “Only at the end, Murdock, only when he tried to get off.”

 

Hannibal pursed his lips together, not trusting that he wouldn’t vomit if he tried to leap to his own defence. It wasn’t his fault that that wave struck them just as he was scrambling from the back of the ski.

 

“And it was _awesome_ ,” Face’s voice literally sparkled. “We saw flying fish, and spinning dolphins and a turtle.”

 

There’d been a _turtle_?

 

“And she handled like a dream. I swear, buddy, I need to get myself one of those.”

 

They were at the table now, and Hannibal sank, gratefully, into a chair.

 

“It wasn’t supposed to be a joyride, Faceman,” BA sounded just about as gruff as ever but Hannibal silently thanked him. “You get anything of interest at all while you were speeding about out there?”

 

As if a switch had been thrown, Face was all business. He dropped down into a seat at Hannibal's side and leaned over, tapping his finger on BA’s carefully drawn image of the house on the cliff. “Gates to the property here and here. No obvious lock, but a keypad on the side so looks like combination entry. None of these windows are openers, but this one is. These are bi-fold doors and these lead straight into the pool. Like, _straight_ into the pool.” He looked up, waited for BA to nod and then moved on. “Observation deck on the roof. There’s a couple of cameras up there and an ancient looking telescope but also a couple of sun beds so not sure how used they are. Satellite dish here, commercial standard only, radio antennae here, a big boy, maybe twenty feet? No guards, no dogs, no sentries, not one single person around apart from Mrs. Hernandez who was chilling by the pool. That okay?”

 

He sat back then, took a long swallow of beer and Hannibal watched him, surprise and guilt and pride running through him in equal measures.

 

For a long moment, BA didn’t answer, he was simply starting at the plan, taking all of Face’s details and adding them to the blue-prints in his head and then he looked up. “Vehicles?”

 

“Black sedan parked here. South African plates, T574 AAT. That’s Hernandez, yeah?”

 

All three men at the table nodded and then BA sat back, cracking his knuckles and looking at Hannibal. “You got anything else to add to that, boss?”

 

Hannibal shook his head, silently.

 

“Okay then,” BA gathered up his plans and rose to his feet. I’ll got get some surveillance gear drawn up and you get us a plan for getting it in, right?”

 

“Yeah, right,” Hannibal had to clear his throat a little before he spoke.

 

“Murdock, you coming?”  
  
Murdock threw down the rest of his beer and rose to his feet, wiping a froth moustache as he did so, “Sure am, big guy. You gonna let me do some soldering?”

 

“No.”

 

“A bit of soldering?”

 

“No.”

 

“Just one bit?”

 

Their bickering faded as they wove through the tables and Face let out a long breath as he stretched his legs out under the table, placing a hand on Hannibal's knee and smiling over at him. “You okay, there John? Wasn’t it beautiful out there? Those fish,” he shook his head, “they were incredible.”

 

Hannibal looked at him sitting there, toned and bronzed, crystals of salt in his hair, sparkling like diamonds, his blue eyes so sincere and full of such love and all he could hear in his head was that laughter as they raced the dolphins, that pure, joyful laughter. Pushing down the nausea he smiled and covered Face’s hand with his own. “You were incredible,” he whispered, “and beautiful.”

 

Face flushed a little but his smile broadened.

 

“And next year, we’ll come back out here for the holidays but this time as a vacation, and I’ll buy you one of those things for real. For keeps.”

 

Face’s eyebrows rose a little at that and he turned to pick up his drink once more. “Yeah? That would be awesome. But I’d kind of got the impression that you hadn’t liked it…”

 

Hannibal just mirrored his action and took a swig of his own drink wondering how, for someone so streetwise, Face could sometimes be so adorably naive.

 

________________________

 

But they hadn’t gone back out there for the holidays at all. Instead they’d climbed on a whirlwind ride that had seen them acquitted and Face taken away from him as he set out to court the world and a rather pretty PR agent. Or, at least, that’s what Hannibal had believed was going on and it had been that erroneous belief that had been the ruin of them all.

 

__________________

 

“I see,” Hannibal knew his tone was layered in ice. “And so will you be back here for the holidays at all?”

 

He’d known this was coming, had known for weeks now that Face was sliding further and further away from him but Christmas had been the one thing he was holding out for. He’d missed Face at Thanksgiving, but he always promised he’d be home for the holidays and it was then, over those two weeks without _Vanessa_ around, that Hannibal had planned on rescuing their drifting relationship.

 

He still didn’t even understand why Face thought that courting this entire circus was necessary. They’d been doing okay in their line of work before the acquittals came through, so why the hell had they needed to put themselves out there like this? He’d listened to Face’s arguments, his promises of better jobs, better pay, less risk, less _work,_ but all Hannibal had seen was a little overlooked orphan who’d sat on the edge of Hollywood and wondered why he didn’t have any of that money, that attention, that adoration.

 

He’d known Face a very long time, knew all about the insecurities and cracks that ran right through him, who was he to deny the kid his time in the sun? Who was he to say that he didn’t deserve his ten minutes of fame?

 

But, of course, things hadn’t worked out as simply as that. As soon as Face stepped out into that spotlight, all easy grace and incredible blue eyes, the entire world had fallen for him and fallen hard. He’d been in very high demand, had graced every chat show on every network and could be seen smiling at Hannibal from the covers of most of the glossy mags. Women adored him, straight men saw him as an icon whilst the gay magazines soon had him as their number one poster boy and this, in turn, snagged the attention of the networks and the studios. Before long, Face was in the gossip columns as invite after invite after invite came his way. Hannibal had taken to searching him on the internet and would sit in bed on a night, all alone, and flick through image after image of Face and the beautiful people. Face and Vanessa. A sickly, slippery panic started up deep within him.

 

Face still called him though, at random times and for random reasons; fitting him in between dates, Hannibal thought bitterly to himself. Those conversations had been hard. Apart from that enforced separation back in 2010, Hannibal had never gone more than a few days without seeing Face. Never gone more than a few days without being able to love him in one form or another and suddenly all that closeness was just – gone.

 

It hurt, but what hurt even more was the rather obvious truth that it was only Hannibal who felt it, that Face was out there and loving his new life and probably wishing he didn’t have Hannibal waiting back at home for him.

 

Self-preservation kicked in. Hannibal kept his distance in the phone calls, could hear the awkward tone in Face’s voice and wondered if _she_ were there, listening to them, stroking Face’s thigh, sucking his cock… Every second of Hannibal's day was now filled with a bitter, rancid fear that exploded out of him in vicious barbs, most of which headed Face’s way. Eventually, he was just wishing it to be over, knowing that he’d be cut adrift at some point and wanting that Band-Aid ripping off and being _done_ with it all.

 

“Of course I’ll be back,” Face was such a good little conman, Hannibal could hear the false regret in his tone. “Just not until Christmas Eve. There’s a Saturday Night Live Christmas Special with Liam Neeson they want me to do and-”

 

“Liam Neeson?” Hannibal couldn’t keep the ice out of his voice, “Well, of course you’d rather spend the holidays with him than with me. You always have had a thing for older men.”

 

“John…” and now Face had the nerve to sound choked.

 

“You found yourself a rich older guy now? Wow, Face, it’s no wonder you don’t want to come home for Christmas, you ever going to be able to dirty your hands with us again after all this high life?” There was a silence on the end of the phone and Hannibal could just imagine Face rolling his eyes at Vanessa, clicking on the speaker phone so that she could hear Hannibal's agony for herself. “Look, kid, just do us all a favour and stay out there, wherever the fuck you are right now.”

 

“Michigan…” came the tiny voice.

 

“Whatever. Stay out there and have fun with Vanessa and Liam Neeson and all your showbiz pals. We don’t need all this uncertainty. We don’t need – _Murdock_ doesn’t need – to have to wonder if you’re ever going to come back to us at all.”

 

“I am coming back, I told you this. Just after Saturday Night Live, that’s all, Christmas Eve. I’ve booked the flight and everything, I’ll be landing at-”

 

“Tell you what, kid,” Hannibal swung up from the bed and stormed over to the window. “You just tell us when you’re on that plane, huh? You just tell us when this is definitely happening because, shit, I don’t know – what if you get an invite for drinks with Ryan Reynolds or dinner with Vanessa’s mom? You gonna be able to turn that shit down? For _us_?” he laughed and it was cold and bitter. “I don’t think so.”

 

“Look, John, this is-” Face sounded choked again, Hannibal wondered if he was carrying a cold but he really didn’t have the heart for any more of this crap.

 

“I gotta go now, Lieutenant. I need to break it to Murdock that you won’t be home tomorrow, before he starts baking all your homecoming goodies.” Silence. “So call us, if you can make that flight. Otherwise, have fun with Vanessa.”

 

“Hannibal, I told you-” but Hannibal disconnected the call and stood looking at the phone in his hand until the display melted into tears which ran down his face with tragic finality.     

 

-*-

 

Sleep hadn’t come easily to him that night and in the end the half bottle of whisky he consumed only stole half of his day away and left him waking at 1pm with a thick head and a mouth full of sand. Thoughts of Face had never been far from his mind and his planned evening of reacquainting himself with the rest of his old friend Johnnie had been blown out of the water when Murdock, always a little flighty these days, called him up.

 

“Hey there, bossman, how’s it hanging? Face home yet?”

 

Hannibal ran a big hand over his face. “No. Not yet.”

 

“Oh,” the disappointment was palpable. “He gonna be back for the party then?”

 

Party? Hannibal’s mind ran on and then landed with a bump with the remembrance that they were supposed to be going to party that night, a party arranged for them by the LA Courier, the same paper who had campaigned so tirelessly for their acquittals. “I don’t know.” For a brave man, he could surely be a coward at times.

 

“Oh,” again. “But you’ll be there, yeah? You won’t leave me and the Big Guy to do it on our own, will you?”

 

_Yes,_ Hannibal wanted to spit. _Yes, do it on your own because I want to sit here and think about Face fucking Vanessa. Liam Neeson fucking Face._ He rubbed his brow again, “Yes. Of course. What time are we expected?”

 

-*-

 

Nine thirty found him feeling very much out of place in a monkey suit and nursing his third whisky of the night, the montage of Face’s supposed unfaithfulness running on constant loop through his head.

 

“Hey, handsome, what are you doing here, all on your own?”

 

It took Hannibal a moment to realise that it was him she was talking to, this vision of beauty in a sleek red dress and heels that allowed her to look Hannibal in the eye. “Minding my own business,” it was hard to dodge the bitterness that lived within him.

 

His visitor only laughed and stretched out a pale hand with glossy red nails shimmering on the ends like so many holly berries. “Claudia. We’ve spoken on the phone but I have to say, Colonel Smith, your voice and your pictures don’t do anything to prepare for seeing you in real life.”

 

It was bullshit. Hannibal had lived with Face for so many years that he could detect a microbe of it from one hundred meters away but still, she’d delivered it so well, had sounded so sincere that he’d actually felt the words deep in his belly and he began to stir in a way he hadn’t stirred for anyone but Face in a long, long while.

 

“And you,” he turned on his most charming smile. “No one warned me that you would be quite so – stunning.”

 

It had progressed quickly from then on in. They’d flirted a bit more, drunk a bit more and then she’d leaned in, her ruby red lips right next to his ear and whispered, “I’d really love you to fuck me now, Colonel,” before withdrawing once more and sucking the tip of her finger as she watched him from under her lashes.

 

_Why not?_ Hannibal thought darkly as he escorted her through the throngs to the exit. _Why shouldn’t I have a little fun? Why should Face get it all?_

 

He ignored BA’s glare and Murdock’s shocked tragedy and in the cab, they made out like teenagers. Once they were in the house, however, they graduated well out of teenage fumbling and went straight to triple X action. This woman knew what she was doing, Hannibal realised. He hadn’t slept with a woman since his twenties but he remembered enough to give a good account of himself, to make her wet and flushed and begging for him, fingering herself as he found a condom.

 

“How about here?” his finger found her puckered opening and he stroked it gently, wanting that tight grip, not desiring the wet slide he remembered from so long ago.

 

For a moment, she looked taken aback but then she smiled again, making a noise a little like a whine deep in the back of her throat. “Okay then, Mr Kinky,” she breathed and Hannibal flushed. “I never come like that though, you think you can make me come just from that huge cock of yours,” her fingers wrapped around him and he groaned as she started to stroke, “up my ass?”

 

For a moment, he faltered. For a moment, an image of Face and a night so very long ago flashed through his mind but it was closely followed by another picture, that of Face bent over the dressing table in an anonymous dressing room, Liam Neeson behind him, Face moaning like a whore whilst he was repeatedly filled and fucked.

 

“Of course,” he growled and pushed his slick finger straight into her, relishing the way she arched and moaned as he set about the stretching.

 

It was like riding a bike, he mused, watching carefully as he moved to three fingers, keeping her right on the edge with the thumb on her clit and the other digits in her wetness. This was just what he needed, this beautiful, wanton woman writhing on the bed in front of him begging for him as he stretched her ass in preparation to take his cock. He was under no illusions about the presence of _emotion_ here. For her this was nothing more than getting a good fuck from a pseudo-celebrity and for him this was banishing the ghost of Face from his head, if only for an hour or so.

 

Soon she was ready to go and he was ready to burst. He tugged her into place and pushed home in one solid stroke that had her whining in the back of her throat once more. She was tight, obviously not a new-comer to this but not a regular either and had just enough grip in her ass to remind him of Face who worked out to keep himself as tight as he could. Hannibal closed his eyes at that thought, wished he could close his ears as well and just threw his head back, transporting himself back in time to another night and another partner and a time when he really did believe in happy endings.

 

He pleasured her on autopilot, trying to keep Face right there in his head and the thought was so strong that he couldn’t hold back on coming first, only just stopping himself from shouting for his lover, his soul-mate, the keeper of his heart, as he pumped out his bitter release into the condom. She followed straight after him, his cock and his stroking thumb relentless and now Hannibal just wanted it over, wanted her gone so that he could lie in bed and cry over the fact that the last person he’d made love with _wasn’t_ his beloved.

   

Neither of them moved. Their heavy breath filled the room and Hannibal was already wondering how he could get her to leave when he heard it, almost like it was inside his head, inside his guilt, a thin and strangled, “Hannibal-” which choked to a halt almost as soon as it was spoken.

 

Hannibal leapt up, pulling his cock free and scrambling to his feet to stare at Face, his heart pounding hard in his chest as a single thought ran through his mind at warp speed. No, no, no, no, no…

 

“Face! Shit…” what the fuck was he supposed to say to rescue this mess? He reached out, took a step forward and stumbled to a horrified stop as Face took one back in response, his expression blanched in horror, a sickly, grey pallor to his skin that Hannibal had never seen before. He wondered how long the kid had been there, wondered what he had seen, wondered what his bed-partner was doing and glanced over to find her looking like the cat with the cream, a self-satisfied smirk on her face that made him want to kill her. Turning back to his boy, he reached out again, realising that his hands were shaking, his entire life was shaking. “Sweetheart,” _please don’t leave me,_ he wanted to add, “I wasn’t expecting you back for days.”

 

“Obviously,” he’d never heard his boy so crushed.

 

“Oh my God!” this voice was from his side and Hannibal turned to throw her out, tried to think of a way he could blame all of this onto her, but her eyes were on Face, her Siren’s lips curled into a smile and Hannibal couldn’t stop her from making it even worse, “I’ve just worked out why you were so keen to take me up the back door! You and him!” she laughed as she indicated them both, “You’re _together_! That is just soooo sweet,” Hannibal felt a murderous rage build up inside him as she patted the empty bed at her side. “Plenty of room, gorgeous, I’d _love_ to see the big man here fuck your hole.” The words hung in the silent room. Face looked like he’d been shot and then, just as Hannibal couldn’t imagine a way that anything could make this any worse, there was a far-too-loud _slap_ of the condom as it slid off Hannibal's rapidly deflating cock and landed on the wooden floor, milky proof of Hannibal's betrayal leaking out and pooling in the grooves of the grain.

 

At that, Face just turned and ran. 

 

Hannibal followed him, of course he did. Scrambling to throw some clothes on, spitting at the interloper in his life to get _out_ and then running along the beach, spotting Face in his beautiful suit, tugging his case through the unrelenting sand, staggering in his haste to escape from his pain.

 

“Face!” Hannibal was barefooted and he ran easily across the sand, gaining on Face even though he saw him speed up in his attempts to get away. He was there in a moment, grabbing Face’s arm and pulling him around, not even seeing the solid fist that met his jaw and sent him sprawling backward in the sand.

 

“You keep away from me!” there was a sob to Face’s voice which sent a spike of pain through Hannibal's heart. “You fucking _bastard_. How could you? How could you lie for all these years?”

 

“Face,” Hannibal was scrabbling in the sand, trying to get to his feet, trying catch Face before he vanished forever. “I never lied, you have to believe me, I’ve never told you a lie, ever.”

 

“Lies don’t need words,” this version of Face was stranger to him. This was the little boy that hid inside his love and had always been so carefully hidden away – until now. Until Hannibal ripped Face open and tugged that frightened, bewildered, _agonised_ child right out into the cold evening air. “I’ve been living in one and now I’m done. With you – I’m done.”

 

Hannibal lunged for him as he turned and ran, leaving everything behind. His fingers grazed the back of an expensive Italian shoe but Face was faster, vanishing like a wraith into the darkness of the beach. Hannibal followed him, ran up and down the sand until his feet bled but Face had gone, gone from his life and his bed but not from his heart, never from his heart and Hannibal was left alone with only his stupidity for company.

 

-*-

 

Hannibal let out a long sigh as he leaned against the wall of the convenience store on the corner of Jacob’s and Forty-Seventh. He’d never spoken to the kid since that night. There had followed three days of torture when no one knew where he was. Hannibal had been forced to relate the entire story to a furious looking BA and a stricken Murdock. He’d received another punch to the face from the pilot and a reeming out from BA but they had dropped everything to try and help him locate Face in the sprawling mass that was LA.

 

It didn’t work though, of course it didn’t. A Face that didn’t want to be found was never going to be found no matter who looked for him and for how long. Finally, after three days where Hannibal could hardly breathe for the fear in his heart, the phone call came through that he’d turned up on Murdock’s doorstep – a Christmas miracle. Hannibal had broken down and sobbed at that, in relief, in loss, in sorrow and in absolute self-hatred.

 

 The year passed by slowly. Hannibal tried to phone but Face changed his number, he tried to call around but Murdock told him to stop, told him that Face would run again if he didn’t and so Hannibal had had no choice. He’d written letters which returned unread, he’d stood for hours outside the office that Face and Murdock rented just desperate for a glimpse of the man he’d promised forever too.

 

His self-loathing knew no bounds. He was constantly appalled at his own stupidity, his own petty desires for retribution and flattery that had seen him destroy the man he loved. One dark night he even considered ending it all but he soon tossed that idea aside; leaving Face with that guilt would only compound the issue, would do nothing to take any steps towards righting his appalling wrong.

 

So now he was reduced to this, to lurking around the entrance to a store he knew that Face frequented. Hoping for a glimpse that would tell him his boy was doing okay. Hoping for much more really, but knowing it was way out of anything he deserved. And there it was, that familiar little car and he watched from the shadows as Face edged into a parking spot. Watched as the driver’s door swung open and then stepped forward, not able to wait a second longer for his tiny little ration of contact.

 

It wasn’t to be though, for the briefest of moments, their eyes met over twenty metres of asphalt and then Face was gone again, long legs folded into the car, throaty engine roaring into life and a pair of tail lights, vanishing like fireflies into the stream of cars.

 

For a moment, Hannibal just stood and stared, ignoring the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket and then he turned and started on the long walk home.

 

-*-

 

It was almost eight by the time Hannibal pushed open the door of his too-large house. He didn’t bother with any of the lights and left the keys on the side, digging in his pocket for his phone before he stripped off for an early night alone in bed. It was then that he saw the flashing icons, the ‘seven missed calls’ that piqued his curiosity. BA’s number made him frown and he clicked onto the voice mail, his frown deepening with every word he heard. Within seconds, he was out of the door once more.

  

-*-

 

His gamble of calling at BA’s apartment hadn’t paid off, and when he arrived at the airport he was met with the news that the Chicago flight had left. He wasn’t ready to give up though, not until he’d checked whether BA had caught it, but ten minutes later he finally admitted defeat and trailed back across the vast terminal floor, heading for the elevators and the basement parking. In a move that seemed to mock his poor timing, the silvered doors of the nearest car slid shut as he approached and, more from instinct than anything else, Hannibal lurched forward, pressing the call button and slipping inside as soon as they opened to let him in.

 

There was a figure in the corner of the car but Hannibal only had eyes for the control panel, pressing the glowing red B, just to make sure, he waited until the doors had hummed shut again before turning and leaning against the side panel, feeling the elevator shift beneath him as he finally looked around and made eye contact with a rigid Face.


	3. Part Three

It was more than a shock, far more, but there was only one thought in Hannibal's mind, one thing he’d burned to say for almost an entire year now. He stepped forward, watched Face’s eyes widen in horror and opened his mouth, _I’m sorry_ , it was there, just waiting for its chance: _Oh, Face, believe me, I’m so, so sorry…_

 

He held Face’s frightened eyes, “I’m-”

 

He stopped then, his words stolen as the elevator lurched to a sudden halt, the force of it throwing them both into the silver walls as the lights flickered and died. For a moment, there was nothing, Hannibal opened his eyes to peer through the darkness, rubbing at his aching shoulder but then there was a whirring noise and a gentle blue light in the panel above them flickered into life, bathing them in softness and Hannibal made eye contact once more.

 

It was still there, his heartfelt apology but Face was faster, muttering a desperate, “Oh, you have got to be shitting me…” before heading to the control panel and leaning his thumb against the alarm.

 

Nothing happened. There was no sound, no response, no _nothing_ but it didn’t stop Face from trying, from pressing that little button again and again and again, his back to Hannibal, his forehead resting on the wall, sheer desperation running through his veins like fire. He couldn’t do this. He’d never wanted to do this. How could he face the man who had hurt him so, so badly? And how fucked up was his life that _this_ would happen to him just because he tried to do a buddy a favour?

 

“I think the power’s out,” Hannibal’s apology had retreated in the face of Face’s disinterest.

 

For a moment, Face paused in his pressing but then started straight up again, his thumb pounding away like a beating heart.

 

“They’ll know we’re here though,” Hannibal supplied thoughtfully. “They’ll come and get us, just as soon they’ve got some power.”

 

“Don’t speak to me,” Face’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. “Please. Neither of us want this. Don’t make it any worse. Just please, don’t speak to me.”

 

Hannibal couldn’t speak at that, not when his throat was so tight and painful. Face continued his desperate pressing and Hannibal wrapped his arms around his chest and stared at the back of his bent head.

 

-*-

 

An hour later, they were still there, the silence pressing in all around them as they sat in opposite corners of the elevator, their legs spread out in front of them, Face’s eyes stubbornly on the wall, Hannibal's stubbornly on Face.

 

So many times, he’d almost spoken, almost uttered the words that had lived in his heart for twelve, long months but every time Face’s request had beaten him back, stolen his nerve as he wondered just _who_ his apology was even for. Should he do it? Should he throw his regret out there? Would it make Face feel better or would it just make it all even worse? But then, how much worse could any of this possibly get?

 

As if in answer to Hannibal’s rhetorical question, the lights surged back into life and Face scrambled to his feet, his expression full of hope and then they died again, taking the blue light with them for a moment before it struggled back again, casting its soft light onto Face’s tragic features and again that painful twist in Hannibal's heart.

 

Face stood, the aborted hope mocking him and then his eyes fell on the panel in the ceiling: the escape panel. He jumped up once, his feet making the car shudder as he landed and swung a hand at the hatch, finger tips only managing to brush the sleek panel.

 

Slowly, at his side, Hannibal pushed to his feet.

 

Face sighed and stopped, considering carefully before keeping his eyes very much fixed the ceiling, his voice deliberately light and casual. “Please will you give me a boost?”

 

The stabbing pain only got worse as Face let the silence build and Hannibal slowly shook his head. “Face…”

 

“There’s no need for a discussion on this,” the bite in Face’s voice was an attempt to hide his mounting panic. “You just need to boost me up. That’s all.”

 

Hannibal rubbed at his forehead. “Kid… you’re not going out there.”

 

“Like fuck I am, and I’ll do it with or without your help, so just do it, will you?”

 

He took a step in, “Face, it’s dangerous. You know that. You know that they-”

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Face leapt again at that, his fingers gripping the grid above him, holding him up as he freed one hand and started fiddling with the catch, trying to spring it open when Hannibal knew it needed an alum key to get it unlocked.

 

“Face.”

 

Face continued to ignore him, scrabbling at the catch in an ever-increasing panic.

 

“Face.”

 

“Come on, come on, come on…” Face chanted, sweat starting to stand out on his brow as his fingers trembled and his shoulder screamed in agony.

 

“Face!” Hannibal’s bark coincided with Face’s fingers losing their grip and him falling back down again, Hannibal reaching for him even as Face tried to kick him away.

 

“Get the fuck away from me!” he hissed and Hannibal recoiled, almost right back at the beach that night, realising that Face’s pain hadn’t diminished in the slightest over all those long months.

 

“Face,” he couldn’t let go though, not now, not ever. “Face, kid…”

 

“Don’t ‘kid’ me!” Face could feel everything inside him starting to unravel, could feel it all slipping away and his panic only intensified as he realised that he was trapped here, nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. “You don’t get to do that anymore!” Why the hell couldn’t he just shut himself up? “You don’t get to touch me, you don’t get to look at me, you don’t get to speak to me! Not now, not ever fucking again! Understand? You understand me?”

 

Hannibal shook his head. The slippery panic that he’d been living with for all these months was starting to solidify, was starting to settle into something real and tangible which would take Face away from him forever. “Face, please.”

 

“No, Hannibal!” Face shoved at him as he reached forward. “No rights, not anymore, not after what you did!”

 

“You left me!” the roar was dragged from deep inside Hannibal’s chest and it shocked him as much as it shocked Face but wasn’t that the truth of it all? Wasn’t that what had started it all? Face leaving him, Face going off galivanting around the country, preferring all _that_ to being with Hannibal? “You left me!” he repeated, _needing_ Face to understand. “And what was I supposed to do? You tell me that, hey? What the fuck was I supposed to do whilst you were off living the high-life, cosying up to celebrities, fucking them, letting them fuck _you_. What was I supposed to do with that?”

 

Face felt like he’d been stabbed, right through the heart and he stepped back, his instinctive reaction to run from the pain thwarted by the solid elevator wall behind him. “I…” he could barely string a sentence together and shook his head, “I did what?” he looked at Hannibal like the stranger he now was, “I’ve never done that. I’ve never been with anyone else but you. Not since Sosa. Not since we committed,” and what a mockery that now was. “I’d never betray you like that.”

 

And he wouldn’t, Hannibal knew that, knew that all of _that_ had just been the product of his bitter and jealous mind. He’d never really believed that Face would do it, so why had he said it, why had he let it steal his precious apology? “Face…”           

 

“Seriously Hannibal,” Face’s eyes were swimming, “You have to shut the fuck up, here. It’s too late.”

 

“It’s never too late.”

 

“It is. It’s over.”

 

“You don’t love me anymore?” Hannibal had to know. And he knew Face, knew his loyalty and his depth of emotion. Surely it hadn’t all gone…

 

“I don’t trust you anymore, that’s worse,” and it was, it was a death blow.

 

“But I’m sorry…”

 

“It’s. Too. Late.”

 

“But I tried earlier! I tried on the beach, I tried all year long! I’ve written, I’ve called, you’ve never let me apologise!”

 

“It was too late from the moment you even thought about it!” Face was right in his chest now, his eyes blazing in fury. “It was too late when you took that _slut_ back to _our_ house and fucked her in _our_ bed. Don’t you see that? Don’t you see that I was coming back to save what we had and you were doing your best to ruin it all?”

 

And then Hannibal saw that that was true. Could trace those thoughts that had spun through his head and decided to break with Face before Face could break with him. He’d not known that his love had been on his way home of course, hadn’t known that he would get caught in the act but he did know enough about the two of them that it was a certainty they would never survive a betrayal. And that would have been Hannibal's choice rather than Face’s.

 

There was a noise behind them then, a hissing from the panel on the wall and a tinny voice that sounded into the tension, “Hello? Calling Elevator 7B. Anyone in there?”

 

Face spun on the spot, his hands shaking as he braced himself up at the control panel. “Yes, I’m here. We’re stuck. You’ve got to get me out.”

 

Hannibal closed his eyes and leant back against the wall.   

 

“Okay, sir. Don’t worry about it, everything is sorted now. In a moment, we’re going to hitch a winch to your carriage and it is going to pull you back up to the main terminal floor. The doors will then be opened and you can get out. Just wait for us to give you the all clear. Is that understood?”

 

“It is, yes, thank you.”

 

Neither of them moved. High above, the clunking sounds could be heard and then, jerkily, unsteadily, the elevator started going back the way it had come. Once it stopped, Face moved from the panel and stood at the doors, edging through them almost as soon as they were prised open, allowing himself to be led to a First Aid point illuminated by the emergency lights in the darkness and answering a few basic questions, finishing off with a, “I just want to go home.”

 

His details were taken, apologies were made and then he was free and when he looked cautiously around him, Hannibal was nowhere to be seen.

 

He took the stairs this time, rounding the pillar to his car and stopping dead as Hannibal pushed off the wall, his eyes shining in the dim lighting, his bulk between Face and freedom.

 

“No more…” was all he could whisper under his breath.

 

“I know, kid, and I won’t keep you. I swear I won’t, I just…” he scrubbed a hand through his hair, “You just deserve something better than this pile of shite, that’s all.”

 

Silence fell. A distant siren sounded and Hannibal blew out a long breath. “I’m sorry. Please, Templeton, you have to believe me when I say how sorry I am. This was all me, not you. I know that, of course I know that. What I did was unforgivable. Stupid and thoughtless and all because I’d had you to myself for so many years I just didn’t know how to share you anymore.”

 

Face stood, his fingers tight around his car keys.

 

“I hurt you and I destroyed everything we had. I realise now that you’re right, there’s no way back from that but I want you to know that if I could turn back time I would. I would do everything so differently and be more like the person you deserve. But I can’t. All I can be is so dreadfully, dreadfully sorry and still in love with you. For always, I’ll love you and for always, I’ll regret causing you this pain. And if there was anything I could do, any way at all to fix this, then I would. Any way, Temp, you just have to tell me.”

 

The siren wailed to a stop and Face stood there, his expression hidden in the gloom, a slight trembling in his shoulders betraying him as Hannibal had done.

 

“Excuse me,” his voice was low, tightly controlled. “I need to get to my car.”

 

Hannibal felt his entire being sag as the cold wave of defeat washed over him. For a moment, he couldn’t move a single muscle, and then he had to force himself to be still until the desire to just _grab_ Face and run away with him passed by. Then, he simply stepped to the side and Face slid past him, slotting into the driver’s seat and stating the engine straight away. There was no other sign of life in the garage so nothing impeded his exit and Hannibal was left staring after him, long after the tail lights had vanished into the dark once more.

 

_______________________

 

Christmas night. Hannibal and a bottle of whisky again but it was the good news from Chicago that warmed him, that he clung onto when everything else seemed to bleak and hopeless. That and the text from Murdock, wishing him the greetings of the season and promising a meet up in January. Hannibal supposed that that was about all he deserved.

 

There were no decorations in the beach house but there was a sale sign outside the gate. Face was never coming to live with Hannibal here. Face was never going to talk to him again. He needed to accept that and he needed to start moving on the very best that he could. It wasn’t going to be easy but he had to start and selling this place was probably the best way forward.

 

He’d spent the day alone. Been over to Howie’s to trim the lawns and even Buddy hadn’t turned up to greet him. Then he’d come back to his house and eaten a ham and cheese omelette before flicking through the channels looking for anything that didn’t scream ‘Christmas’ at him. He’d just found some creaky old reruns of the Honeymooners when the doorbell rang and, with a sigh, he pushed up from the sofa and padded around to the front door.

 

He expected carollers, Murdock maybe after the conciliatory tone of his earlier text, but what he hadn’t expected was Face, two bags at his side, a backpack on his back and an expression of barely controlled terror in his eyes.

 

“Temp…” what else could he say but that?

 

“I hope you don’t mind me calling around like this,” Face had launched into what was obviously a pre-prepared speech, “But I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what you said in the parking lot.”

 

Hannibal held his breath.

 

“You asked for a way to fix this. You asked if there was anything you could do to put it right. You said you’d do it, anything, anything at all to get back what we had.”

 

“And I will. Anything.”

 

“Thing is,” Face met his gaze head on, “there’s nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do. What’s been done has been done, it can’t be retracted, it can’t be fixed. Nothing can do that.”

 

Hannibal felt his throat tighten. What was this? Just Face coming over on Christmas Day to ensure Hannibal knew there was no hope for them? With _luggage_? What the hell was that?

 

“So the only thing is,” he saw Face swallow, hard, “to start again. You say you still love me-”

 

“I do.”

 

“-And I love you. I just don’t trust you anymore.” The calmly delivered words were like a knife to the chest. “But I’m willing to work on that. I _want_ to work on that. I can’t live without you – I just exist. We can’t get back what we lost, but maybe we can build something new.”         

 

Hannibal had to grip the door frame, hard. “I’d like that.”

 

“It won’t be easy.”

 

“But it will be worth it. Once we’re there.”

 

The very edges of a smile flickered across Face’s lips. “Merry Christmas, John.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Temp, my sweetheart,” he reached for Face and almost sobbed when Face didn’t recoil from him, reached for him in return and he crushed their chests together, felt the heat of long-absent arms coming around to hold him tightly. “Merry Christmas,” fuck, was he crying? “I’m sorry and I love you. A fresh start, a new start. This will work, you’ll be happy again, baby, you will, I swear.”

 

Face’s arms tightened more and Hannibal could feel the other man’s tears on his neck, “I know,” and for the first time in a whole year, Hannibal’s heart could beat freely again as the shard of ice, once lodged so tightly, simply melted away into nothing.


End file.
